


The 52nd Hunger Games

by SheisaCShelz



Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Minor appearances of characters from other fandoms, Not Much Romance, the big four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 20,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheisaCShelz/pseuds/SheisaCShelz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, you have been chosen to represent District 7 in this year's Hunger Game!</p>
<p>And here is how everyone copes with that, from the second he's riding away on the train to the second he- well, that would be spoiling it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hope You Know the Bells' Death Toll(Cause You're Gonna Need It)

He was on the train when the thought hit him.  Home was shrinking in the distance and he craned his neck to see that last, blurred glimpse from a horrible angle through the window.

He was leaving and he wasn’t coming back.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was dying, he realized.  Whether he won or not, once he entered the Capitol, HHH the Third would never set foot outside it again.  The huge white building looming off in the distance suddenly didn’t resemble a seat of government so much as it did a tomb.

He didn’t want to die.  He wanted to return to his dragging life, to those long days in the dim workshop and the cove where his best friend slept and the awkward silences with his father over their bowls of poorly-made stew.

But he never would because Hiccups didn’t win the Hunger Games.  A Hiccup could never, not in a million years, be a Victor.  If he wanted to get out of this alive, he would have to stop being all…this.

He had tried to ‘stop being all this’ for fourteen years.  It had been a long, painful endeavor for everyone involved, himself, his father, his mentor, his entire district…his best friend.

Especially Toothless.

And he realized that maybe he could face his district as an insane killer, but he would not be able to face Toothless like that.  Never.  Maybe the district would finally respect him, but that pained look of fear and repulsion coming from glowing, acidic green eyes in a black-as-coal face…never.

It didn’t matter that even if he returned, they would never see each other again.

If he returned, he would walk into a new life he wouldn’t like as a person he would hate.

His breath caught and it was hard to swallow.  Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, dragon friend, clever inventor and gentle fishbone, was going to die.

For a second, he wanted to be a Victor.  He wanted to prove to the world that he wasn’t useless and that just because he was small, he wasn’t hopeless, and march straight across the Districts to the astonished faces of everyone who had doubted him.

He wanted to strangle his Hiccup-ness again and become that walking, uncontrollable disaster that had caused everyone in a ten-mile radius so much grief.  Maybe he would die, but he would drag the Gamemakers down with him.  Let them rue the day they made him a Tribute!  Let them wish the day the Hunger Games began the sun had exploded and saved them all the terror that was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!

But most of all, he wanted to be Toothless’s friend, more than he wanted anyone else’s respect (even his father’s) or revenge on the hell-spawn who were forcing him into this.  For perhaps the first time in his life, he really, truly wanted to be Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

His eyes hardened.

Death was imminent for Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

But, he decided then and there as the train entered the Tomb, it would not come by his own hand.  The Capitol would have to do the dirty work itself.


	2. The Witness of the Parade

Toothless admits he doesn’t know much about humans.  No dragon does.

But he had thought he knew Hiccup.

Apparently not.

Toothless was _furious_.  He had waited in the cove all night and all day and then another night, and Hiccup’s continued absence, coupled with the sparkling black fin that moved perfectly in sync with his real fin, made it perfectly clear that Hiccup had _left him_.

It hurt, but dragons didn’t really do ‘hurt’, so Toothless was instead absolutely furious.  Beyond enraged.  Had he been a dragon at the moment, he would have been spewing fire.

He had decided early on in his tantrum, however, that burning the cove to ashes was pointless and that he’d much rather find Hiccup and demand to know what the boy had left him for.  Of course, this required following Hiccup, which thus required sneaking into Hiccup’s town in broad daylight.

Which had required a lot of heartthrob, a haphazard disguise, and a ton of cursing.  (Because as far as he was concerned, the bipedal method of transportation was just _stupid_.  No wonder Hiccup had been stumbling all over himself all the time!)

And it had all led him to this.

He hadn’t had to do much sneaking.  Scratch that, he hadn’t needed to do any sneaking.  The wind twirled a few leaves through the empty path.

It was clear that no one was there.  Toothless’s anger calmed down a little as the first licks of worry nudged the back of his mind.  Humans, he had learned, were always everywhere.  Busy all times of the day and night.  A deserted town like this was unnatural.

_So where are they?_ that worried voice whispered.   _Where is Hiccup?_

He slowly followed the open path, creeping along the walls.  He could hear something up ahead, what sounded like a crowd.  Maybe a mob.

But no, there were the humans, all gathered in a vast, flat, muddy clearing with their backs turned to him.  They were completely silent.  They were all watching something and Toothless raised his gaze to watch, too.

There was a moving picture of another place with other people.  This was where the sound was coming from.  He didn’t understand exactly what it was – just a human creation?  Was it real? – but it was definitely intriguing.  The bright colors, the roars of approval, and the two humans, one with hair the color of a Nadder’s scales (he hadn’t known that was a natural color) that seemed to be talking about it.

“-importance of this moment _cannot_ be overstated.”

So it was real?

He crept a little closer, hugging the walls of the strange structures the humans lived in.

The image changed.  There was a man with dark brown, almost black eyes and wiry hair and a complexion that looked a little too smooth and a little too perfect to be real.  Pale and flawless next to Hiccup’s freckled skin.

A crowd of smiling, colorful humans that cheerfully socialized with each other, obviously anticipating something.  They were the complete opposite of the crowd that stood before him in all its somber silence.  He supposed they were all waiting for the same thing, though.

Then the cheering began.

“There they are!  There they are, this year’s first Tributes!” the smiling blue-haired man stated.

The first thing he saw was pink.  Then he noticed the two humans underneath the color, smiling and waving to the crowd, looking completely unaware of the second audience that was watching them.

He caught sight of white and gold, too, in stark contrast with the black carts before the two humans were shown again.

“-the stylists, they so clearly manage to capture the character of each district.  See, there’s-“

The image changed to a couple of gold-clad humans that, frankly, just looked silly with their large head pieces and bulky outfits.

Then his heart stopped.

There was Hiccup.  The ridiculous tree outfit barely registered in his mind, because there stood his Hiccup, one of those real people in that real place.  His hair shone gold like a flame.  His eyes were narrowed in determination and, it took him a moment to recognize it, resentment.  Pure defiance.  And he could see the fires in them that made the green irises seem to almost glow.

Hiccup was _furious_.

Then a grating voice cut through the image burning in his mind.  It was the Pasty Human.

“Welcome!  Welcome.  Tributes, we welcome you.  We salute your courage, and your sacrifice.”

The cheering reached its height, although not a sound came from a single person in that clearing.

“And we wish you, happy Hunger Game!  And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

Hiccup was furious, and now Toothless was scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the only thing I'm going to say to explain this is: dragons are magical creatures. Humans are scientific creatures. Yup. You got to infer the rest of the explanations :) Kind of like the game Mao.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	3. May the Odds be Ever in Her Favor

It could be worse.  That’s the line Tuffnut clings to.

“She’s a fighter,” Fishlegs tells him.  The teens of District 7, or rather, the remaining teens of District 7, are clustered around him in the little shack where he lives, with its bright fire and the wooden beams that have been nailed haphazardly, even taped in some places, over the holes in the walls.  There’s no insulation to keep the warmth inside.

“Maybe she’s smaller, but Ruffnut can take on the toughest guys there.  She’s fast and she’s cunning.  That’s a winning combination.”

“Yeah…”  Tuffnut’s reply is despondent.  It could have been worse.  She could have been weak.  She could have been doomed to the traditional feminine life, where the girls sat around and sewed and wove coarse fibers in the semi-warm houses.  She wouldn’t have stood a chance then.

“She’s insane!” Snotlout adds encouragingly, enthusiastically (although they all know it’s fake).  “She’ll beat ‘em all into the ground and then she’ll do her crazy laugh and she’ll come home!”

“Mmm…”  It could have been worse.  She could have been Hiccup, the boy who was weak and didn’t have much of a home to come home to.  The only person who dared to hold their breath and wait for him was Stoick, their well-liked unofficial spokesperson.  And everyone knew father and son didn’t exactly get along.  But Ruffnut had people who would worry for her and people who would try to help her and people who wanted her back.

They all know that supporting Ruffnut means giving up on Hiccup.  It’s an uncomfortable topic for them, because while he wasn’t exactly liked, nobody would wish a Hunger Game fate on anyone.

A pat on the knee makes him jerk.  Astrid is silently supportive, the tough best friend Ruffnut had always had.  She doesn’t need to say anything to him because he can see the hope in her shimmering eyes that Ruffnut will come back, maybe not sound, but safe at least and they’ll all be together again.

It could have been worse, he thinks.  After all, it could have been his name on that second slip of paper.

Nobody sees the tears that run down his cheeks because the remaining teens have clustered around him in a group hug.

Except one smoky black being that detaches itself from the shadows and weaves its way around the village unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, NOT going to be able to update tomorrow...but DID manage to get a second chapter done today (although it's short), so!  
> Ta-da...
> 
> ~Sheisa


	4. A Touchy Subject

Merida has never really been a very patient person.  She’s always been quick to speak, quick to judge, quick to act, and quick to fight.

And she knows that she’s perhaps a smidge more…volatile than usual right now as she tries to adjust to the idea that Hiccup is gone.

So she’s proud of those ten minutes she managed to stand in the presence of Hiccup’s father, a man who could rival her own dad in strength and character.  On most days.

She’s willing to bet he’s been staring haggardly out the window since he returned from work, sitting on that boulder that passes as a chair.  She knows District 7 as well as she knows her home district, District 8.  She knows he’s staring down the hill at that giant projector screen the Peacekeepers keep in the town center, open for everyone to watch.  It looks more like a field of mud where Jack’s pigs would wallow than a meeting place for humans.  You can’t really see it from here, but she knows he’s watching the events play out as Hiccup and the rest of the Tributes train for the Hunger Games.

She also knows precisely what he’s envisioning.  Stoick has never been able to see past Hiccup’s twiggy figure, much less his sarcastic rambling.  In all honesty, it took her a while to get on the ‘Hiccup frequency,’ too, so perhaps she can see where he’s coming from.  But she’s frustrated and angry and sad and somewhat ashamed and it’s been years and she can’t stand it anymore, she’s going to make him _really look_ and _really see_.

In short, she explodes.

“HE’S NAE DEAD YET!”  She’s vaguely aware that she’s brandishing the crudely-carved wooden spoon in her hand and flinging broth all over the floor.  “Sae STOP starin’ like a witless bobbie!  He’ll…he’ll be back.”

Yes, Stoick is like her father in many ways.  She returns his thunderous scowl with a glare of her own, eyebrows drawn down over sky blue eyes and mouth twisted in a stubborn curve.

“Don’t fool yourself, lass.”  His voice is gruff and deep, wounded and angry.  “He’s nae coming back.”

She doubts it, too, but this attitude just makes her so mad, makes her feel so offended in her friend’s place that she immediately starts spitting out denials.  “Yes!  He will!” she insists.  “He’s Hiccup!”

“Exactly!”  Stoick is finally off that rock, nearly tipping it over as he stands up, strong as the trees he chops down.  “You know wha’ he’s like!  From the time he could crawl, he’s been…”  _Weak_ , she finishes in her mind for him.  “Different!  He can’t wield an axe, he has no coordination, he doesn’t pay attention!  He’s…just…”  To Stoick’s credit, he doesn’t call Hiccup inadequate or cowardly or any number of other terms as he struggles for words.  “He’s Hiccup!”

Then he stands, no, towers, in front of her.  “So do nae try to tell me he’ll come back!  We both know he’s nae!”

And Merida can’t believe this man, this father.  He’s not _looking_.  The spoon almost feels like a sword in her hand as she points it at him.  “Sae you’ve already given up on him?  Maybe he doesnae stand much of a chance!  But it’s our job to believe in him and hope for him and cry IF he dies, and nae before!”

“Not MUCH of a chance!  It’s a fight tae the death!  He’ll be killed before the first hour is over and we both know it!” he thunders.  If it wasn’t obvious before that Stoick is holding back a torrent of tears, it is now.

Merida came here to offer comfort in the form of companionship.  She knows she’s not very good at comforting people, but she also thinks some people are just too stubborn to be comforted, and she decides she has one last thing to say to the grieving man before she leaves.

And in the moment she says it, her heart swells and she’s happy because she doesn’t feel an ounce of doubt that it’s true.

“Hiccup is the smartest person I, and YOU, know!  If there’s a way tae come back from the Hunger Games, and we both know there is, then Hiccup will find it!”

Thrusting the spoon into the poorly-cooked stew and slamming the top of the pot down on it, she kicks a few bits of coal back into the fireplace and grabs her coarsely-woven cloak.  The edges swirl in the shadows cast by the low-burning fire as she twirls it on and pulls the hood over her head harder than necessary and then confidently begins the long walk back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleasantly surprised to find that there's internet here! And therefore posting a chapter today...but again, I am on vacation, so I don't have much time to write. Fair warning.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	5. A Little Bit of Help

The little, aged Terror isn’t sure why the mighty and no-longer-absent Night Fury has asked him for his help.  The Night Fury has never really paid much attention to anyone but himself, preferring to be the very definition of reclusive.

And to top it off, the Night Fury has led him straight to one of the humans’ nests.  They’re as high up as can be, because with the huge white building that’s practically glowing below them and the myriad of lights that disappear into the night sky, the Night Fury must stick out like a plague rash – black and distinctive.

He has a few hints.  For one, the Night Fury reeks of human.  For another, the Night Fury is tense, angry and scared.  Not scared in a ‘my God, that’s a HUGE dragon that can swallow me in one bite!’ way.  The Terror is experienced enough to read the quick, jerky head flicks and the tightly-controlled wingbeats and see that the Night Fury is beside himself with worry.

It can’t possibly be for himself.

The Night Fury dives down suddenly into a dark, small pathway and the Terror follows him, much more slowly as he sneaks from spire to spire, blending his dull green scales with the colored stone, seeming to just become a pattern on the wall whenever a human passes.

When he finally makes it down to the alley and he sees two bright green eyes and a pacing silhouette, he settles down on a box and waits.

“Alright,” the Night Fury begins.  “Alright…I have a friend,” he says bluntly.

The Terror nearly falls off his perch in shock.

“I have a very good, very close friend who is in a life-threatening situation and whom I can’t get to.”  The Night Fury leaves long furrows in the stone ground when he says that.  “At least not without using up so much energy getting to him that I’ll be useless when he needs me.  Beyond that, I would raise a lot of suspicion when they find me.

“You are small” – which was a nice way of putting it, the Terror thinks acerbically – “and easily explained away.  I am asking you to do everything in your power to help my friend make it out alive.  And just to be clear, that includes laying down your life for him.”

The Night Fury continues pacing again.  “I cannot tell you how dangerous this is, or how crazy.  I can tell you that if you leave this alive…” and here he stops and actually bows, head low and eyes closed to the flabbergasted Terror.  “I will forever be in your debt.”

The Terror, even as an elder, has never encountered such respect from anyone.  As the runt of the litter and one of the least powerful dragon species that live in the Nest, he has never expected to be shown such respect, although he did dream of it.

And here he is, with perhaps one of the greatest dragons to ever exist and most certainly one of the few people he has always respected ignoring his pride and bowing to him.

Of course he is not so young and foolish as to just jump in and accept.  He’s wise enough to understand that the Night Fury is asking him to do this because he cannot and if the Night Fury can’t do it, then it must be dangerous indeed.

But he decides he is old.  His mate is gone and he has no hatchlings.  His size combined with his age makes it difficult to collect food and he knows his days in the Nest are numbered.

And beyond that, this is perhaps the most exciting thing that has ever happened to him.  He can recognize history in the making when he sees it.  Every Terror, Hel, every _dragon_ has their first Hunt and their first Raid and their first what-have-you.  No dragon has ever done anything like this before.  No dragon will have ever died like this before, and if he dies, at least he will be able to say it was not with countless others at the fangs of the Queen or in the Raids on the humans.

This is an Adventure and even though the service of the Night Fury is as enticing as it sounds, it is this chance to be something Big that makes him say he will give his life to save the Night Fury’s Friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...ahem...yeah, vacation's over. It was over on the 19th but, well, school started and I had a test and blah blah blah, excuses...  
> But! I am back. That said, I will be gone again this weekend for an overnight project, but updates will be consistent now and I will try to work ahead so I can update across the weekend.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	6. Should Haves, Could Haves, Can'ts, Aren'ts

“Uh…who’s he?”

Jack is pretty sure the bedraggled kid Merida has a death grip on is not some “bloody… _wheeze_ …Peacekeeper.”  Then she collapses on the coal.

“Yeah, that’s great.  Now who’s he?”  Jack leans forward to stare pointedly in the direction of the _total stranger_ she just _dragged into the cargo hold_ that they use to STOWAWAY TO DISTRICT 1!

“Friend of Hiccup’s.  You know, that reclusive one he told us about,” Merida’s voice floats up from the coal.

The silhouette without the giant ball of hair perks up.  “Hiccup…mentioned me?”

“Muttered about is more like.  We were…what were we doing…oh!  We were playing model for Rapunzel and of course-“ Jack didn’t need to see her to know she was pulling a sour face “-she managed to get us all dolled up in her district’s glamorous frilly pink, just _blegh_ , _stuff_ , and Hiccup mutters, ‘thank Thor Toothless can’t see me now.’  Just stuff like that.  He always clammed up tighter than me mum’s corset when it came to you.  Oh, and he looks fabulous in pink by the way.  We have pictures at Rapunzel’s house.”

“Uh…huh…”

Merida’s always loved telling stories and as she continues to regale the cargo hold with tales of the quartet Jack can just feel himself slipping into those happy(er) moments.

“-and then-“

The train whistle makes all three stowaways freeze.

“TIMBEEEERRRRR!  Time to pack ‘er up!  Train number 15.”

On impulse, Jack leaps up and his arm slides the door open and his head peeks out.  The District 7 residents are all lined up and the lumber is ready and a skinny boy with floppy brown hair is-

Except, of course, Hiccup is a good couple of hundred miles away.

“Jack?”

And he’s about to enter the Hunger Games.

Jack leaves the door slightly ajar and lets his forehead rest on the cool metal.  “Did you…”  He swallows, the words nothing more than a whisper.  “You saw Hiccup, at the Reaping, right?  Toothless?”

“…No.  No one…knows about me.  It…my…parents…decided it would be better if, if I, uh, we just stayed…hidden.”

There’s a brief silence.

Then Toothless’s hesitant voice speaks up again, a little stronger, a little surer.  “I…met Hiccup when he went exploring in the forest.  He’s been sneaking out to see me and…I made him promise not to tell anyone about me.  And he didn’t tell me…anything about all…this.  He just disappeared.  Said goodbye and just left.

“I’m still angry at him for that, you know,” Toothless adds, although his voice is more sad than angry.  “He should have told me what was going on.  That last night, when he stayed with me at the c-“

Toothless breaks off abruptly and Jack sits down next to him, across from Merida in the triangle they’re in.  The sooty girl grabs Jack’s hand, and Toothless jumps and scuttles back some as Jack reaches out and grabs his hand, bringing him into their little huddle in the cold metal box with the dirty coal that’s as black as the Capitol’s heart.

“He shouldn’t have told you,” Jack disagrees.  Being blindsided by loss has to be better than sitting there and just waiting for it, or worse, waiting with the hope it won’t happen, just to feel this crushing pain as that hope is ripped to shreds and the train jolts and Hiccup isn’t here.  “He was protecting you, just like your parents.  He shouldn’t have gone up there, he shouldn’t have gone to the Capitol.  Someone should have volunteered.”

He’s almost crying now.  There are so many ways this could have turned out, so many ways Hiccup could have been here, with them, all three – four? – of them sneaking off to see Rapunzel.  “It shouldn’t have been Hiccup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say here...I wasn't particularly fond of where I ended, but I couldn't think of much else. It was hard to write Jack's pov in this rather depressing situation he's in.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	7. How to Give an Interview

Her mother had always said she was silly, and when Rapunzel met three thuggish looking vagabonds who turned out to be three kids her age with a dangerous idea of fun, she had realized that she was very silly indeed.  Something about that meeting, however, had diminished it somewhat…she wasn’t sure how, but the next time Mother had come home, absolutely gushing about how stunning she looked, the gorgeous new alteration she just made, and the latest fashions in the Capitol that were just so wondrous and took human beauty to a whole new level, she had thought ‘how silly.’  After a couple months of illegal meetings, secret adventures, and far-away tales, Rapunzel found herself thinking ‘how silly’ a lot, perhaps not at the fashions themselves as at the people who endorsed them and flaunted them like peacocks – and that was all too accurate for some, who actually had peacock feathers among their hair.

It had worried Rapunzel.  These were her first real, true, human friends.  She loved Pascal, and he was certainly more intelligent than a lot of people gave him credit for, but he couldn’t laugh like a lunatic or sled down the roofs or sprint around the market with her.  And if she really was Silly with a capital S, would these people, fun-loving but responsible Jack, fierce and protective Merida, and intelligent Hiccup the Attitude-Master, would these people who couldn’t afford to be silly want to hang around with her?

When she had turned five, Mother had decided it was time for her to get her first ‘beauty marks’ and her ears had been slightly pointed and rather elfish ever since.

Then she had turned ten, and double digits meant a second beauty mark.  She had in fact looked forward to it and Mother had brought in specialists to perform one of the newest, rarest alterations yet.  Her ‘Little Flower’ had turned into a Little Sundrop and Rapunzel had oohed and aahed at the glow that her face seemed to carry, reflecting a little off her hair and making her eyes just a little more bright.

Then she met the others and she was thankful that her hair could cover her modified ears and her room was always lit so that the glow around her face was subtle, almost unnoticeable.

When she turned fifteen, Mother decided it was time for a third beauty mark; she was growing up!  Yes, she was, she decided, and she tried to convince her Mother to put it off another year.  She failed, of course, but then she fought tooth and nail for the decision on _what_ it would be.

She lost that, too.  Mother had veto rights, and she wanted something that people would see (although the only people she saw were the serving staff – as far as Mother knew).

It was with shame that she met Jack, Merida, and Hiccup with the smooth little braid-type thing in her hair that ran around the shape of her face, looking like interlocking flower petals – and that would never come out.

Jack had stared speechlessly.

“Wow, you look even more beautiful,” Merida had said.  She grinned at her as she prodded Jack through the door and followed him in.  “It suits you.  All elegant and pure-like.”

Hiccup had merely smiled at her, but she couldn’t see a speck of disapproval in his eyes.

“You…you don’t think I’m just some silly little fashion girl?”  Her voice had been small, vulnerable.

Merida actually laughed.

“Rapunzel, you’re silly, but it’s because you’re…innocent.  It’s refreshing and it’s…it’s just part of your charm.  We know you, and we know there’s a whole lot more to you than the braid in your hair,” Jack said.  “Maybe you are silly, and little, and fashionable-“

“-and a girl-“ Merida interjected.

“-but you are not ‘just a silly little fashion girl.’”

“Because silly little fashion girls would not be preparing for daring jaunts across the rooftops to go sneak into the District Aquarium,” Hiccup added.  “Speaking of, I hope you came with a back-up plan for if they catch us, Jack.”

Jack laughed.  “Please, why would I make one when you’ve already made three?  I know what goes on in that little head of yours, Hiccup!”

Hiccup has always been the most thoughtful one of their quartet.  Rapunzel rubs her bare foot a little as they wait for his appearance in the interviews, knees curled up to her chest.  He’s always considered the possibilities and the consequences and the risks.  His mind runs on logic and his mouth runs on sass and if Rapunzel has an opposite in this group, it would be him.  Just as Jack is the winter to Merida’s summer and light, powdery snow to Merida’s raging fire, Hiccup is like the solid ground to her puffy clouds and the firmly-rooted trees to her wayward breeze.  He is not a silly person at all.

And this is why Rapunzel really doesn’t like his stylist.  The bunch of pine needles and branches he had worn in the Parade had been nothing but silly.  She can see its point; whereas most of the Tributes are well-built and stocky, at least solid, Hiccup looks like a twig himself, and that’s not a good image for the sponsors.

But couldn’t the stylist have done something else?  Capitalized on Hiccup’s good points rather than so obviously hidden his bad ones?

This is his last chance to gain sponsors before the Games start, and as a District 1 native, Rapunzel knows just what her fellows are looking for in the Tributes.  She prays his stylist has finally done him justice.

A round of applause springs up from the plasma screen and then-

“Tha’s him!  There’s Hiccup!” Merida cries, finger pointed at the screen.

“No way…” Jack breathes.

_“Please welcome, the male Tribute from District 7, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!”_

Toothless’ mouth just hangs wide open.

To the stylist’s credit, Hiccup is not wearing ‘the Tree.’  He has on a perfectly serviceable yet stylish suit that’s dark brown and has an assortment of brownish-orange patterns that complement his hair and run like the bark on a tree.

His hair has been cut.  It’s no longer quite so floppy and dangly, the bangs coming to a stop just above his eyebrows.  It looks a little redder than usual for some reason, shining in the stage light.  And his freckles, she can see as the camera zooms into his face, they’re gone.  Like they had never existed.

And his eyes…

“Are his eyes… _glowing?_ ”

It’s not just the emotion that has always seemed to turn his eyes into a more intense shade of green.  They don’t give any light because the stage is well-lit but Rapunzel has enough experience to know.

“Yes.”

To top it all off, he’s wearing a face she’s never seen on him before.

_“You scored a 6!  There are lots of higher scores out there, Hiccup, tell me, how are you feeling?  Nervous?  Apprehensive?”_

“Six is good, right?”

Toothless looks to Jack and Jack shakes his head.  “Rapunzel?”

“No,” she answers.  “The six isn’t going to help him at all, but I can say this – he is not out of the picture yet.”

“I’ll say!” Merida agrees.

Toothless cocks his head in confusion, frowning.  “What?”

“This is the last chance for the Tributes to get sponsors, or supporters, during the Games,” Merida explains to him.

“Sponsors look for someone who stands a chance to win,” Rapunzel picks up.  She’s the expert, after all.  “But we all love those stories where the underdog comes out on top, so even with a low score, a Tribute can still get sponsors if the audience likes him.”

And with the way Hiccup looks, even if Rapunzel’s heart aches and she desperately wishes she could have seen their Hiccup instead, she knows he’s going to be getting a lot of support.  Especially when he cracks that old sarcastic joke he’s used since before they met:

_“Nah, I wouldn’t say scared.  I mean, after all, who can stand up to all…this?”_

It used to be a self-tease.  To him, she can tell, up there on the stage, it still is.  It’s practically a reflex now to grin toothily and flex his stick thin arms and strike a ridiculous pose whenever someone questions his abilities.

Except now the grin is not so toothy and the suit must have some padding because his arms don’t look so skinny anymore and the formerly ridiculous pose looks not-so-ridiculous.  All in all, he cuts a rather handsome picture and Rapunzel swears she can hear some thumps from behind the camera.

“He’s going to get a fan club, isn’t he?” Merida murmurs to her.

Rapunzel can feel her cheeks redden.  Hiccup with a fan club…  ”Absolutely,” she answers.  “Now,” she speaks up so the boys can hear her too.  They both perk up.  “This is going to depend on how Hiccup plays this.”  God, how many times has she done this for all the other Tributes, the people she can’t help but sympathize with, but won’t affect her if they leave this world?  “He has a very strong card out there now.  He can either pull out another one by talking about his abilities and increasing his chances in the eyes of the sponsors, but when he throws them bones like that, the other Tributes get in on it, too.  Or he can continue to capitalize on the…female portion of the audience.”

“Capitalize…what?”

Merida rolls her eyes.  “Look at him, Jack.  Look at him.”

“…I don’t get it, either,” Toothless confesses from Rapunzel’s left.

Rapunzel and Merida exchange looks.  _Boys_.

_“Belief in yourself is good.”_

There’s an awkward silence on the stage now, but thankfully, it’s not Hiccup being awkward.  He’s sitting on his chair like the tree firmly planted on the ground for once, and it’s Caesar, the blue-haired interviewer who’s fidgeting and looking uncomfortable as though a door has just been closed in his face.

_“So, do you have anyone to return to?  Friends?  Family?  A-“_ and here he wiggles an eyebrow, trying to bring back the light-hearted mood, which Hiccup is just wrecking with his serious vibes _“-a_ girlfriend _, perhaps?”_

_“No, no girlfriend, unfortunately.”_

Rapunzel’s eyes glue themselves to the screen.

_“But you have your eye on a certain lady friend at home, I bet.  I know that look!”_ Caesar tries.

“Ow!”

Rapunzel ignores Toothless as she clutches his whole arm.  _Don’t mess this up, Hiccup_ , she thinks.  One wrong word, one wrong gesture, and he’s lost.

And she knows that, yes, he has had an eye on someone for a while.  One ‘Astrid,’ a girl with a no-nonsense attitude, a strength of character that rivals Merida, a practical beauty that doesn’t need any alterations to make her gorgeous in his eyes.  And also a total disdain for him, but Hiccup’s face has always turned the most interesting shade of red whenever they’ve teased him about her.

_“Nope, it’s just me and my dad.”_

She’s practically hugging Toothless now, pressed up against Jack and Merida’s legs and the couch they’re sitting on.

_“But…I do have a friend back home I’d do anything for.  He’s practically a brother to me.”_

He has just thrown Caesar a beautiful bone, the first bone he’s thrown in the whole interview and the blue-haired man jumps at the chance.

“Card number two?” Jack asks.

“Card number two,” Rapunzel confirms.

“Although I have no clue what card number one even was…” comes the grumble.

_“Well, he’s probably watching us right now.  Anything you’d like to say to him?”_   Caesar gestures towards the camera.

Hiccup shakes his head.  _“He wouldn’t be watching this.  He’s not much of a TV person.”_

But Caesar isn’t about to let this go.  _“Well let’s say he was.  What would you want to tell him?”_

Hiccup appears to think for a moment.  But the foursome watching from Rapunzel’s room can already tell, he’s planned this out.  This is just the drama leading up to words that he’s given some serious thought on.

_“I guess_ , _”_ he starts slowly, looking directly at the camera – directly at them.  _“I wouldn’t really say anything.  We never really needed to…speak to understand each other.  He always understood that I wanted him to be safe and happy and I always understood that he wanted me to be happy and safe.  We didn’t need to tell each other that._

_“But, I guess if I had to say something and I could only say one thing, I’d want to tell him that…I’m coming home.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, clearly I didn't get to work on this for most of the weekend, but I hope this long chapter made up for it. It actually turned out long more because I just had to create a solid backstory for Rapunzel in order to write her. I admit to not being a big fan of hers because she's so rainbow-y and 'the world is made of sunshine!' so she's a little OOC here. (Although let's face it, what characters dumped into the Hunger Games AU wouldn't be OOC? Totally different culture...)  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~Sheisa


	8. Risk and Uncertainty

_Sixty seconds…_

Twenty-four Tributes.  Twenty-three not counting her.

Twenty-two not counting Hiccup.

_Fifty-five seconds…_

But Hiccup counts.  So twenty-three.

_Fifty-two seconds…_

She’s refused to ally herself with anyone.  The Careers never approached her and she turned down a group calling themselves the ‘Anti-Careers.’  Hiccup never approached her either and she can read in the way he’s walked and sat and acted around her these past two weeks and the way he’s standing now, eyes scanning the Cornucopia, that they are not a team.  He does not expect her to help him.  And she should not expect help from him.

_Forty-seven seconds._

Which is fine.  That is what the Hunger Games are all about.  She knows Hiccup is smart.

_Forty-six seconds._

They’ve both reached the same conclusion: it would be better to be ally-less than to be traitors.  It doesn’t matter what the rules say.  It’s about what their rules say, and for once, Ruffnut and Hiccup are on the same page.

_Forty-three seconds._

She’ll leave him alone, she decides.  The chances of him being in the last couple of Tributes are tiny.  She may have to be a murderer, but she doesn’t have to be his murderer.

_Forty seconds._

She’s okay with being the Careers’ murderer.  The Careers are nothing but murderers themselves.  It’s easy to see them as…not-people.  Like wind-up dolls made of sharp metal and crackling wires or, or vicious, insatiable dragons in human form.  Monsters.  She’ll have to be smart, but she can do it.

_Thirty-four seconds._

Everyone knows how the Careers’ districts work.  And not all the honor and admiration in the world could hold a candle to the thought of returning to her brother.  It’s cliché and it’s gushy and she doesn’t dwell on it, but she always feels it, the empty space behind her where her brother should be and the cold breeze that buffets around her and her only.  She misses fighting him, she misses fighting with him, she misses being with him, she misses being Ruffnut.  Here she’s District 7 girl.

_Twenty-nine seconds._

There’s a pack fifteen feet away.  She can see Hiccup eyeing it.  She can fight him – and win it – or she can get a good pack.  Maybe even a weapon.  It would be doing him a service.

_Twenty-seven seconds._

If Hiccup wasn’t here, would she go after the easy pack?  She doesn’t think so.  She would still run for a real pack.

_Twenty-five seconds._

The bloodbath will take place at the center of the Cornucopia where the strongest Tributes are eyeing the same packs.  She knows the Anti-Careers are planning to wipe out the Careers asap, so it will probably be Careers versus Anti-Careers and a few extras trying to grab the good stuff in the melee.  Last chance: does she want to be one of those extras?  Neither party will get her back, both will try to kill her, as well as any other extras.

_Eighteen seconds._

Unless the extras are largely like her and just want to get something good and get out of there.  She can’t count on it, but those chances are pretty good.  The alliances have the people who actively want to fight.  And judging from the way that huge, like, nine-foot tall Anti-Career is shooting spears at the male Career from District 2, who is returning the gaze with a crackling one that promises fire, they probably won’t be paying much attention to the extras.

_Fourteen seconds._

Not much, but some.  But she’s reasonably certain the Anti-Careers will take the chance to kill any Career that gets distracted by an extra.  So she should go.

_Twelve seconds._

Except the Careers won’t distinguish between Anti-Careers and extras, so she shouldn’t go.

_Ten seconds._

_Nine._

Chances are she can distract the Careers and get saved by the Anti-Careers.

_Eight._

Chances are the other extras won’t be a problem.

_Seven._

_Six._

_Five._

There’s a sizable chance she’ll be killed.

_Four._

Her heart’s pounding.  She hasn’t decided yet!

_Three._

The odds are in her favor if she…

_Two._

She has a good chance of winning if she…

_One._

Screw the chances.  She wants her home.

_P-A-A-R-P!_

Ruffnut sprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have finally gotten to the actual Games!  
> Happy Hunger Games, everyone.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	9. Monster in my Home

So apparently, he had missed yet another raid during Absence Number Two.  He reentered the Nest to uncountable hisses, an unpleasant warning snap from the Queen that nearly caught his tailfin, and a public and humiliating meeting with the Assembly – which was missing a certain Terror.

“I have more responsibilities than acting as a guard during raids!”

“Such as?”

Toothless mashed his gums together.

“Your extensive, selfish jaunts are not responsibilities and do not come before the safety of your comrades,” the Warrior Nadder stated coldly.

“You cannot pass judgment without all your members present!” he snarled, infuriated.  This would ruin _everything!_   “And the Elder Terror is not here!”

One of the many Nightmares snorted.  “That senile little pest?  He’s as good as dead.”

The murmurs were unanimous and the appointed Deadly Nadder, an experienced but young female warrior, stepped forward to exact his punishment.

Hiccup would have called her a ‘Babysitter.’

Toothless calls her ‘All Top Ten Reasons to Get Eaten.’

He had snuck off during the night.  He had smoked off into the forest.  He had led her to a field of kitty grass and shifted to human, leaving her rolling around in delight – until she realized he was gone.

Now he couldn’t so much as twitch a claw without her eyeing him.  He curled his tail uncomfortably into his side, the side opposite the Nadder, where he could let his tailfins flare without worry as he eyed the water before lifting off in a flash.

The Nadder was quick and jumped into the air after him and they fished together, although he could tell the Nadder was not fond of the smell at all.  Good, he thought savagely.  If he had to put up with her, then she would have to put up with his pure fish diet – and any other number of his quirks.

Having caught and eaten his fill, Toothless banks back toward land, three fish in his mouth and paws.

“And where are you going?” comes that cold, disdainful voice that makes Toothless want to bang his head against a cliff.  He briefly considers flying straight into the sea stack, but curves away at the last second.

The Nadder dodges the sea stack perfectly and returns to her flight path next to him.

“Maybe I want a little more privacy and some firm land under my feet when I finish eating my catch,” he answers hotly.

“You had no problem eating the rest of your catch midair and you know you aren’t going to get the ‘privacy’ we’ve indulged you with before.  What are you really up to?”

Toothless cocks his head, considering.

“Alright.  You got me.  These fish are actually a sacrifice to the Red Fiend.  I’m taking them to the forest he stalks so I can burn them in offering to him.  Then I’m going to meet up with some of his lost son’s friends and we’re going to collect offerings to satiate the Demons, which are holding the Red Fiend’s son hostage.”

“…You know, you could have just said you didn’t want to tell me.  It would have been shorter.”

Toothless merely flips over a wing, dives behind and around a tall rock formation, and drops down into the forest, disappearing from view and the sight of the cursing Nadder.


	10. Friend of a Friend

Merida freezes and then sighs, shoulders slumping as the possum swiftly runs away.  “You did it again.”

“What?!  Oh, come on!  I am a master of stealth!”

“Yeah?  Well, Master of Stealth, your ‘unsuspecting prey’ jus’ took off!” Merida yells back as she slowly releases the tension in the string and packs her arrow and bow away.

“Technically, it was _your_ prey, and what are you doing?”

“With the way you’re crashing through the underbrush, there isn’ going tae be any prey in four hundred yards.  I’m going tae go check the snare line.”

Toothless falls into step behind her as she leads the way.  She can hear the crackle of leaves and twigs snap with every step he takes and she rolls her eyes in exasperation.  He’s lucky she managed to catch so much earlier; otherwise she would have been angry, and rightly so.

Out of the corner of her eyes as she weaves her way around the trees, she can see that he’s staring at her.  It’s not a stare of admiration (or else she’d deck him) and it’s not a bit judgmental (which gives him brownie points).  She’s quickly come to associate that focused, almost hypnotized gaze with endless questions and a curiosity that rivals a cat’s.  He wears that look a lot, and right now it’s combined with a little lost puppy face.

“Yeh want tae know about Hiccup?” she guesses.

He jumps.  “You know something?  How is he?  He hasn’t…”

“No, he’s one o’ sixteen Tributes still alive.  You know,” she continues as she approaches an empty trap, “you can just ask me when you want tae know about Hiccup.  You don’t have tae go through spendin’ time with me for me tae tell you.  You’re Hiccup’s friend.  Yeh deserve tae know what’s going on with him.

“I mean…”  She lets out a hiss of triumph when she spots a nice-looking rabbit in her next snare.  “I know we’re nae exactly friends.  I brought you tae Rapunzel’s because, well, you had caught me sneakin’ off and you were a friend of Hiccup’s – a _brother_ , more-like – and that was where we were all goin’ – tae see Hiccup.  But yeh don’t have tae feel obligated tae stay with us.  I understand, it’s Hiccup you’re here for, not me.”

She turns around when she doesn’t hear anything, hands still busy working the critter free.

Toothless has stopped just on the edge of the clearing, eyes staring again.  But it’s not his usual stare.  It’s unfocused, like he’s retreated deep into himself and is staring inside rather than outside.  It’s…a little creepy, the intensity, and she returns to resetting the snare and getting the rabbit ready for its journey to her family’s stomachs.

Then she continues on down the snare line and Toothless follows, still thoughtful and still very loud.

When she reaches the edges of her town, where the chain link fence is, it’s dark, but she can just make out Toothless’s silhouette a couple of feet behind her and catch sight of his face in the dimming light.

“So…I guess I’ll see yeh tomorrow,” she says, more as a goodbye than anything else.  She isn’t sure how to interpret Toothless’s continual presence throughout the afternoon, but she knows where they stand – on opposite sides of the chain link fence, her in the District 8 town and him deep in District 7’s unfathomable forest where only Hiccup could have found him.  “Just so you know, I won’t be able tae get tae the forest.  I can meet you here, but tomorrow’s one of my late work days.  It’s too dark tae do anything except go home when I get out o’ that pit those days.”

“That’s fine,” Toothless assures her, speaking for the first time in several hours.  It makes her look at his face, and her eyes widen when she realizes he’s doing his trademark stare – at her.  “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” she agrees once he’s turned around and started disappearing into the dark trees.  “See you then.”

The next day, he’s actually waiting for her and when she approaches, he beckons her just inside the forest where a large number of rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, and even a badger, all freshly killed and just waiting to be skinned and eaten – or salted, a practical side of her says as the rest of her stares in breathless incredulity – are lying in one of those coarsely-woven District 7 baskets.

He gestures her to it, inviting her to take it.

“See?  _Master_ of stealth.  I’d like to see you do better, Merida.”

She smirks.  “Challenge accepted.  Next holiday, you, me, right here.  At dawn.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Chapter, done. I almost fell behind and didn't post today...It's hard to write when you work from when you get up to when you should be eating dinner. But I did! Mission: accomplished. Most readers probably don't care about this, but I just had to write it. I'm feeling proud.
> 
> ~Sheisa :)


	11. Just Want You Back

“These are for the Thorstons-“ Astrid nods as she takes the small basket of bread “ – and this is for Stoick.  Heavens know he’s going to need it.  Haven’t seen him at market all week.”

“Okay, Mom.  Be back soon!” Astrid calls over her shoulder as she heads out.  Her mother’s gaze trails after her figure as she shuts the door.

It’s dark out but Astrid knows the way to Ruffnut’s house like the back of her hand.  She can feel the worn, packed path beneath her boots as she weaves her way around the higglty-pigglty arrangement of houses.  She doesn’t bother smiling at the few other nightwalkers as she heads up the steps; they can barely make out her face and she hates faking anyway.

She sharply raps her knuckles on the door and waits.

At first glance, it’s easy to miss the stringy hair, the brown eyes, and the dejection in the slumped posture.  It’s easy to see her best friend.

But it’s Tuffnut, and once she realizes that, the figure in the door and the painful astonishment lodged in her chest dissolve.

“Mom sent some bread for you guys.”  Astrid holds the basket out to him, right under his nose so he doesn’t have to tilt his head back and look up.

“Yeah?  Thanks.”

His voice seems thin without the rough undertone that his sister has always supplied and Astrid thinks that she isn’t looking at the twin Tuffnut but at the teenager Tyr.  She’s never met him before because the nut’s never cracked before.  No one’s ever broken the shell in two until the Capitol decided it wanted to eat one of the halves.

She punches the other half in the arm.

“Ow!  Astrid, what the-“

Angry brown eyes stare into cold blue.  Astrid shrugs.  “You looked like you needed it.”

“Needed what?” Tuffnut demands bitterly.  “The pain?”

Astrid cocks her head.  “The feeling,” she decides.  “You’ve been wandering through the days like a ghost, Tuff.  Stop it.  I’m not asking you to dance around with joy, but don’t make this District lose three people this year.”

“Two,” he answers, despondent again.  “Ruffnut and I made one person.”

“She wasn’t just Ruffnut, you know,” Astrid says impatiently.  Did everyone else think of her that way, even her own twin?  “I don’t know you half as well as I know her, but I’d bet my life you’re not just Tuffnut, either.”  That felt like a good closure to an inspirational speech.  “Look, I have to get this to Stoick.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She leaves him standing there, hopefully with a few more thoughts to mull over than he’s had lately, and mentally traces her path up to Stoick’s home, second basket clutched firmly in her hand.

As she walks up the hill, she idly wonders why she’s delivering a basket of bread to the chief logger.

It takes her a couple more seconds than it should to remember that she’s delivering a basket of bread to Hiccup’s father.  A little panicked, and just a smidge ashamed, she reruns a few connections through her mind.

Hiccup is District 7’s other Tribute.

Stoick is his father.

Therefore Stoick probably misses him.

Her steps falter.

 _Probably?_ she echoes in her mind.  Probably.  Hiccup is Stoick’s son.  There shouldn’t be a _probably._   There isn’t a probably.

It bothers her that she would think a father would _probably_ miss his child.

But this is Hiccup she’s thinking about.  What she really meant…is ‘Stoick is probably the only person who misses Hiccup.’

This makes her feel like an even more horrible person and she scowls as she stomps her way up the long hill.

The truth is, Hiccup never had a place in District 7.  And sure, Astrid doesn’t want to see him dead, but she doesn’t want him back.

Is…is she really that awful a person?

Of course not, she reasons.  It’s not that she doesn’t want Hiccup back; obviously, she doesn’t want Hiccup back because she wants Ruffnut back.  She has to choose and she’s chosen.  There’s nothing to feel guilty about.

She nods to herself and gives the door a few solid knocks.

Stoick looks the same as he always does – strong and solid.

“Good evening, Astrid.  What can I do for you?”

Astrid holds up the basket.  “Mom sent this for you.”

“Ah.”  The red-haired giant delicately reaches forward and grasps the handle.  “Give her my thanks.”

“Will do, sir,” she responds smartly.

“And for the fish as well!” he calls after her as she heads back down the hill.

That makes her frown in confusion – if their family gets meat it’s always the cost-effective chicken – but when she turns back around to question him, the door’s already shut and there’s this shattered, _haggard_ face that she can see through the window that makes her turn around sharply.

And she can sense that crackling, empty space over the small stool in Stoick’s home even as she curls into her own spot under the blanket at home hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tricky pov...Astrid is so black/white in the movie it's hard to find the grey areas she might struggle with. But I'm the author so of course I know. Sort of.  
> I do know what's coming up in two chapters. Super excited ;)
> 
> ~Sheisa


	12. Dragon Raid

“Shhh…”  Jack silently holds a finger to his lips and they all freeze, listening.

Thud.  Thud…thud.  Warble.  Thud.

“Jack,” Emma breathes, breath hot against his cheek as she presses up to his side.  “Why isn’t it gone?”

Jack doesn’t have an answer.  All he knows is there is a dragon just outside their house and one wrong move could end in death.  Edith whimpers as she clings to his calf.

He and Toothless exchange a glance and the black-haired boy crawls toward the huddled siblings, steps silent and movements surprisingly fluid as he crouches next to Jack.

“Isn’t te raid over?” Edith asks.  Her face is buried in Jack’s leg and her voice is muffled but Jack can tell she’s close to crying.  “What it wants?”

They all jump when the dragon outside screeches.  It sounds _angry_.

“I’ll get rid of it,” Toothless says.

Jack stares at him.  He _looks_ serious.  “Are you nuts?” he hisses.  Emma grabs him and Edith’s grip becomes almost painful, a feat that tells him just how terrified the little toddler is.  “No!”

“Jack, I-“

“Just wait for the Peacekeepers to come and take care of it!” Jack whispers furiously.

The clicks of innumerable spines pricking up into position make him realize he was too loud.

“We can’t wait,” Toothless insists.  “Trust me, Jack.  I’ve run into…countless dragons.  I can take care of this.”

Now it’s Emma who whimpers, knuckles white as the dragon stomps passed the window and they can all see the bright blue scales and deadly spines of a Nadder, illuminated by the fires raging throughout the town.  Jack can hear the fire brigade shouting in the background and the bleating of sheep and the calls of the rest of the livestock as the District 10 people round them up and take head counts.

“Jack…”

Mom’s counting their losses, too.  If she comes back and the dragon is still there…

Dad’s patrolling with the other District 10 regional Keepers.  Chances of a patrol coming are small, small enough that if Toothless can get rid of the dragon, Jack would take that option.

“You’re sure?”

Toothless nods firmly, eyes holding a promise that his family will be safe.

Jack takes a deep breath.  “Okay.  What do you need?”  He slowly stands up, eyes scanning the room for anything that could be used as a weapon.  There’s a shredded wall and some broken furniture on one side – a crude but comfortable chair Hiccup had taught him how to make out of snapped branches and reeds.

Toothless stands up also and shakes his head.  “Nothing.  Just…stay hidden.  I’ll lure it off and lose it in the trees.”

Jack’s never heard of such a ridiculous plan in his life – and he’s made hundreds of them.  “This is District 10, Toothless!  There are no trees!”

His eyes follow the boy as he backs up, heading towards the wall that has holes big enough to walk through.  “I’ll…I’ll…look, just stay here and stay hidden.”

“Like Hell,” Jack answers as hotly as he can whisper.

His head snaps over to his sisters and he smiles apologetically at Emma, who has her hands over Edith’s ears and is sending him his daily glance of reproach despite the fact that there’s a three-hundred pound dragon that could burst in and eat them just outside.

But Deadly Nadder versus clumsy forest boy?  Like Hell he’s letting Toothless go up against that by himself!  Jack hefts one of the shepherd’s crooks in the corner.

“Look, I’m coming with-“

Too late.

“-you.  Son of a-“  His eyes flicker left again.  “Forest nymph.”

_SCREECH!_

“Oh my God…”

Edith and Emma’s screams join the Nadder’s, but Jack’s blood runs cold when he hears another warble and a series of snorts and growls.

Two dragons.  There are _two_ dragons outside now.

Jack almost runs out.  He almost charges out there with nothing but a shepherd’s crook and this surging wish to protect, but he sees Edith and Emma clinging to each other and hyperventilating and he knows he can’t leave them.

He pauses.

If Toothless screams, then he’ll run out.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.  Toothless is going to take care of it, alright?” Jack promises, crouching in front of them again so that he’s eye-level with Emma.  There’s no need to be quiet; the dragons are making so much noise he could probably shout and they wouldn’t hear him.

Edith latches onto him immediately.

“Jack, that’s a Nadder and I don’t even know what the second dragon is.”  Emma’s voice is shaking.

Jack rolls his eyes, unconcerned even as his heart pounds and his fingers twitch at the roars and groans coming from the roof that looks ready to collapse.  “Don’t you know anything about Toothless?”

Emma deadpans at him.  “We just met him ten minutes ago!”

Jack gives a mock gasp.  “That’s right!  I never told you…”

“Tol’ us what?” Edith pipes up, staring up at him.

“Toothless…is…the _Dragon Conqueror_.”

His haunting declaration is met with two unimpressed stares and Jack can tell he’s going to have to come up with something very good to explain this one.  So he tells of the forbidden union between a beautiful wood nymph and a great, red-haired bear of a lumberman and their son, a boy who lived in the woods all his life until the day his half-brother found him.  He tells how the adventurous forest boy, forbidden from man’s villages but not the dragons’ mountains, left his home in the trees to explore.  He uses broken chair legs for props and the cracked bowls for voices and even when the dragons are long gone and their parents are back home, he continues his tale in the corner where Emma’s eyes grow wide and Edith’s jaw refuses to shut and Mom smiles as she sweeps the floor and rearranges the mess.

It’s after they’ve gone to bed, when Jack is helping to clean up and repair the house and Dad is still gone, that his mother quietly comments, “I hope your friend is alright.”

Then Jack remembers that Toothless is really…just Toothless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously considered calling this 'I'm Running Out of Titles.'  
> Anyway, I'm sorry for the absence. I needed a few days to get homework done and rejuvenate my muse...and to model a TARDIS lantern in AutoCAD. I refuse to feel guilty about that! Just try to tell me THAT'S not an efficient use of my time.  
> Also, this story is starting to diverge from its original path. I had a few ideas for events during the games, and, well, this story's going to have a few more chapters than I originally thought. I need to figure out where to put them.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	13. The Survivor

This…is Berk.  At least that’s the name Hiccup’s given it. A combination of ‘Brrr’ and…well, you know what he ended up with.  Anyway, Berk, for short.

It’s twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death.  The Gamemakers did a good job of picking it; it’s located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.

It’s not all bad.  Maybe the sky likes to drool on this little spit of land nine times out of ten, but that’s a perfectly acceptable way to get fresh water as far as he’s concerned.  And maybe it’s pretty freaking cold, but it’s easier to sleep lightly when he feels chilled to the bone.  And maybe the river is full of mutt piranhas (he saw one thrashing Tribute get stripped to the bones in about a minute), but they taste pretty good.  And maybe the island’s fauna is comprised entirely out of pine trees and all the poisonous berry plants under the sun, but as useless as they are for food, the pine trees make some pretty nice shelters and the poisonous berries, well…

As Hiccup shivers and debates whether to clean his berry-stained fingers in saltwater or leave them as is, the Terror that’s been following him around for some incomprehensible reason sniffs his drying vest and blanket and makes a face.

“You torch it, you replace it,” Hiccup informs it over its growling.

 _I’d like to see you try,_ the Terror’s body language challenges as he gives Hiccup a haughty, mocking stare.

Hiccup grins.  In all honesty, he really likes this little guy.  Toothless is his best friend, but he can really connect with this Terror.  It’s like seeing himself in dragon form: small, mocking, and witty.

“Oh?”

Then, quicker than the Terror can escape, he lunges forward and grabs it, one hand at the base of its neck and the other around its tail as it squirms, although he notices it doesn’t try to flame or bite or even claw him.

Instead it almost relaxes as he drapes it across his shoulders, firmly wrapping its tail around his neck, and lets him strut along the bank proudly.  He can feel the Terror convulsing with hisses of laughter and sticks his nose in the air.  “There.  Quite a dashing fashion statement, if I say so myself.  ERK!”

Okay.  Maybe wrapping a Terror around his neck wasn’t a great idea, he thinks as the living scarf becomes a choker.

Then the pressure disappears.

“What the-?!”

A faded green tattoo of a Terror with a mischievous, I-got-you-now expression slides out from under his sleeve and its head lifts up off his skin and a forked tongue pokes out at him.

“Haha.  Real amusing…No, I am not going to fall for the ‘ _stop hitting yourself!_ ’ trick again.

“Are you _pouting_ at me?  _You poor wittle baby boo…_

“Berry smell or disgustingly cheerful cartoon daisies?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.  So like I said, no flames, please.”

Kneeling, he brushes the newly dyed black and purple fabric on the inside of his vest that has turned it into a reversible camouflage – mottled like the forest on one side, dark as night on the other.

“Finally!”  He swings it on and grabs his pack, the Terror climbing up to sit on his head.

They’ve lingered far longer than he wanted to.  The Terror is looking around, eyes narrow and nostrils flaring.  His gaze lingers on the East, so Hiccup heads South, hyperaware of every step he takes, every move he plays.

And even as he creeps through the woods, away from the ocean, his mind still drifts and he wonders when they will catch on to his little game.  Or maybe they already have.  But they haven’t killed him yet, so…

He needs to be convincing.  He’s sure he’s been plenty entertaining, at least as entertaining as he can be without the I.C.K. (I Can Kill!) factor.  Horsing around with a Terror and his little inventions are pretty good, right?  Straying between the Careers (now a trio) and the Anti-Careers (recently made a duet) so they have no reason to drive him anywhere, check.  Sometimes he wonders if there’s this little display of 24 buttons, each with a name – female/male District blah Tribute – in the Gamemakers’ hole.  If there’s a person who stands there, thinking, ‘why, District 7 boy hasn’t been miserable enough lately!’ and pushes the button and throws, like, a forest fire at him.

He wonders what those people think of the Terror.  It’s the only dragon he’s seen on the island and it’s spent vast amounts of time either on his shoulder or on his head.

Come nightfall, he’s once again in a pine tree, blanket acting as a hammock and vest turned inside out.  The Career trio is right below him, small fire going and a couple of animals cooking.  Their weapons are lying beside them, a wicked-looking axe the size of the girl sitting next to it – Gwen, was it? – and a vast array of daggers, knives, and other weapons that Hiccup is sure Luke has scavenged from the Tributes he’s killed.  Hiccup isn’t sure what to call the third weapon that looks like a curved double-headed axe, but he does know what to call the third member of the Careers:

_“That…was…AWESOME!”_

Deranged.  Even as old as the Terror is, he can probably smell crazy on this guy.

 _“We lost her,”_ Luke states as he disinterestedly pokes his dinner with a stick.

The girl snorts.  _“Her leg – and her life – are as good as gone.  All she did was buy herself a getaway to nowhere.”_

Hiccup snuggles a little deeper into his makeshift hammock, the Terror curled up on his stomach.  He really hates hearing conversations like this.  That’s the one thing about Berk that he hates most of all: the neighbors.

 _“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”_  Dagur’s voice somehow reaches him halfway up the tree as clearly as if he’s on the next tree branch, raising the hairs on Hiccup’s arms.  _“I heard dear little District 7 girl’s a rough nut to crack.”_

His heart freezes.

_“We’ll spread out tomorrow morning.  Keep a triangle and move down the river.  Then we’ll find her and I’ll kill her.”_

_“Honor’s mine,”_ the girl disputes, grinning.  _“You don’t owe her anything.”_

_“And you do?”_

_“A haircut, a broken nose, and a swing through the neck.”_

Hiccup stares at the night sky as the deadly squabbling continues.  The world feels cold.  Goosebumps crawl up his arms and his breathing slows.

He can’t help.

He can’t help, he can’t help, _he can’t help_.

Of course, he can climb down and take their weapons or just ask the Terror to do it, or go find her, or-

It’s the rules, he cuts himself off grimly.  Your own rules.

No hurting.  No helping.  Appear to be engaged, but don’t do a thing.

And even as Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III reminds himself of that decision he made, remembers the green eyes he stared into with his dagger raised high and sees the person he saw lying there, teetering just on the brink, he can’t help but feel like it’s all in vain and a part of him is shriveling up and dying anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Career fairs, looking...somewhat decent in the mirror. Midterms in the blindspot, noted. Dashboard all illuminated and ready to go, check. Apology's in the glove compartment. Sorry, folks. I've got no excuse for this one.  
> Just a somewhat longer chapter than usual and a hammered-out plotline :D And a new fanfic idea I want to write so badly...but instead of working on it, I figured it would be better to finish this first.  
> Enjoy,
> 
> Sheisa


	14. Toppled Pawns

_“I cannot tell you how dangerous this is…”_

They’ve finally been caught.  Hardly seen by the others, they are now smack dab in front of three humans the Terror hates as much as he hates the Queen – and perhaps fears a little more.

Night Fury’s Friend is backtracking furiously, stuttered words pouring from his mouth like a flood and hands raised in surrender or defense, the Terror isn’t sure.  He watches tensely from his spot on the tree, dull green scales blending effortlessly with the shadowed leaves.

Night Fury’s Friend abruptly switches direction as soon as he realizes the Deranged One is driving him towards the tree, but it’s a dense forest – he’s getting backed into a tree whether he likes it or not, Deranged practically spitting words of oil, smooth and falsely colored, at him.  He’s wearing a smirk that makes the Terror want to claw his face off.

_“…or how crazy.”_

The other two pack members join him as soon as Monster Girl pulls her axe out of the still form of another – Night Fury’s Friend’s Not-Exactly Partner.  The only reason he can even recognize her is because of her scent.  Partner’s hair has been messily chopped off, scrapes of flesh still connected to the roots.  Her face is broken even worse than Monster Girl’s and her right leg is several feet away.

As Monster Girl and Cold Boy flank Deranged, the obvious ringleader, Night Fury’s Friend’s back finally hits bark.

When he had first smelled Night Fury’s Friend, he almost fell into a coma in shock.  It wasn’t until the human leaned down curiously, trying to make contact, that he even thought to fire at him and then fly far, far away.

Now he darts off the tree and flies straight at the human loner, making sure to bounce off Deranged’s head and dig his claws in as far as he can.  He admires his bloody handiwork from his perch on Night Fury’s Friend’s head – at least until the Pack starts laughing at him.

_“You are small…”_

While the Pack snickers and chortles, the Terror feels Night Fury’s Friend flinch, head flicking in a way that makes the Terror remember that night the Night Fury returned.  Night Fury’s Friend is worried and scared.  He’s a lot like himself: small and witty, and no match for these three.

He jumps when he feels something metal brush his tail.  It’s the hunting knife Night Fury’s Friend has and when he looks down, Night Fury’s Friend sends him a little head jerk in the direction of his dangling nest high up in the tree above their heads.

And he actually manages to pick up a thought, a tentative solution?

_“And easily explained away.”_

“Yes,” he agrees.  He wraps his tail around the weapon just before Deranged can take it and flies off, starting off a whole new round of laughter at Night Fury’s Friend, whose little helper has just ditched him.

Night Fury’s Friend sounds pitifully nervous as he replies and the Terror slices through the fabric.  The nest drops.  It’s not heavy and it’s not much, but it’s unnoticed and that’s enough.

Deranged is down and out.  The other two barely got clipped.  Night Fury’s Friend dodges left and grabs his knife back as the Terror zooms for Cold Boy.  He knows exactly what Night Fury’s Friend wants.

_“I am asking you to do everything in your power to help my friend.”_

It’s the first time he’s gone head-to-head with someone with intent to kill and he uses all his power to his advantage.  The human howls and shrieks as he runs up and down his chest as fast as he can and around his head, biting and flaming all those perfectly tender spots that drive humans insane.

And at every swat, he blends into the boy’s skin, unable to keep the hysterical laughter in.

“Stop hitting yourself!  Stop hitting yourself!”

Then –

“DON’T CUT YOURSELF!!”

The Terror flees in panic, thoughts just screaming, What is wrong with this human, wrong with _humans_ , those sick, twisted, sacrifice everything for nothing and it’s not like he can’t feel it can he-

Cold Boy’s knife dances across his own skin, ripping through flesh in a deadly dance that the Terror can’t escape because he’s only skin deep and the boy doesn’t have to cut himself up _that_ much to kill him.

But is this human willing to chance cutting his own throat?

Last hope.  The Terror runs, placing his racing heart right over the human’s jugular.

The knife stops, edge glistening a mere spine-width away.

…Stalemate.

He tucks his tail in a little closer.

“AAAAIIIII!”

It’s Monster Girl’s scream of rage.  She’s backed Night Fury’s Friend up to the shear drop, where the rocks cut off and the beach glistens hundreds of feet below.

Night Fury’s Friend’s right arm dangles uselessly at his side, blood running from the shoulder.

But his right arm was always useless anyway.

“What was the point then?!” Monster Girl snarls at him, one of Cold Boy’s daggers clenched in her fist.  “Huh, _Lefty?!”_

“I was always horrible with knives no matter which arm I used. Better to lose my right arm than my left.”

“You’re going to lose both arms now!  And your life!” Monster Girl hisses.

Night Fury’s Friend glares down at her.  “Not before you lose your footing.”

She lunges.

In a surge of what the Terror can call nothing but true competency, Night Fury’s Friend ducks, drops his knife, and with his good, uninjured, dominant arm helps her over his back and face first down the cliff.

There’s a heartbeat of nothing and before there’s time to even hear a thud, Cold Boy moves.

_“And just to be clear, that includes laying down your life for him.”_

A single bite and the vein is torn open.  A single jerk and the knife buries itself deep into the Terror’s side.

He blinks thickly as he supposes he’ll never be repaid by the Night Fury for what he’s done now.

He blinks purply again as a distorted version of Friend rushes forward and gently pries him off, fingers tender and warm and thoughts worried and frantic, regretful and angry.

_‘I’m sorry, I’m sor-If only, hadn’t done-‘_

‘It’s okay,’ he sends to through the Drift.  ‘As long as you can forgive, sokay.  O-‘

‘… ‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BWAHAHAHA! Yes. I have just killed two characters (that we care about). And yet I have no clue how to write good deaths.  
> Which led to this ending. Um. Yeah. I don’t know. Mixed up senses, a reference to Pacific Rim universe stuff, weird magic that I invented spontaneously and that actually helps my events now that I think about it? Craziness.  
> But it’s this story. What did we expect?  
> ~Sheisa


	15. World Premiere

They stopped announcing the deaths when they got down to five.

“When they get down tae three,” Merida informs him as they toss their cloaks roughly to the side of Rapunzel’s room, “they show everyone a preview.  How many times you see it depends on how much money you make, but everyone sees it at least once.”

He nods exhaustedly, hardly minding when Merida turns his shoulders around and gently – for her – directs him to the nest of swirling lavender and pink blankets and sits him down on top of them.  He just feels so…horrible.  Horrible in a worn out, exhausted, empty way, when you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy and then felt all the more exhausted afterwards when you’ve realized nothing’s been achieved _and you’re still worried_.  But he doesn’t have the energy to cope with it anymore and just docilely stares at nothing as his friends putter around and Merida settles down beside him, fiddling with the remote.

Rapunzel lets out a soft gasp when she sees him.  “Toothless, you look… _awful_.  Haven’t you been sleeping?”

Sleeping?  “Of course…”   _Don’t yawn don’t yawn don’t yawn…_

Merida shoots him a skeptical look as Jack sits on his other side, holding a plate of…something.

“Right, well, have some of these, Sleeping Handsome.  Maybe they’ll perk you up.”  Toothless lethargically stares at the triangular-shaped thing in the energetic boy’s hand.  Honestly, he’s jealous.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jack look tired.  Not even after-

“Ahem.”

“Oh…thanks.”  He takes it, sniffing it surreptitiously (which of course tells him nothing about it, but habits are hard to break).

It looks like food.

“…Please tell me you’ve seen an apple turnover before.  I get it, you’ve lived in the woods your whole life, but come on.  I know Seven has some apple trees _somewhere_.  Hiccup loves these things.”

Toothless lets a raised eyebrow answer for him, too tired to care about adding to his elaborate and growing cover story, and Rapunzel walks back in carrying two more plates full of these ‘apple turnovers.’

Jack shakes his head and bites into one of them.  “You are one seriously deprived kid, you know that?”

“So what do you think?” Rapunzel asks, settling down behind him and Jack.  Merida’s trying to find the right…channel, on the tee-vee.

Toothless takes a moment to chew.  “They’re…really good.”  He glances at Rapunzel’s eager but slowly falling face.  “Sorry, they really are, I’m just…okay.  I’m completely sleep-deprived.”  Sleep-deprived as he is, he’s still not too tired to call that _soggy-spiked bluebird_ a couple of insulting names in his head.  _She’s_ the reason he can’t get more than a blink of sleep after all, not with the way she’s been shredding the forest searching for him, day and night.

Rapunzel looks sympathetic and pulls the blankets around them like a nest and it actually looks tantalizingly inviting, like he could just drift off here and now…

“We could tell,” Jack says bluntly as Toothless licks the sweet apples off his fingers.

He hardly jumps when Merida grabs his shoulder.  “Guys, here it is, here it is!”

_“-come to the premiere of this year’s Hunger Games!  We are now down to three contestants.”_

_“Whose names still have not been released,”_ adds the second man.

_“Not yet,”_ Blue-Hair answers.  _“But we’ll find out in this year’s Hunger Game premier that’s coming in just a few minutes.”_

Both men, and all four teenagers, stare at the clock the camera’s zoomed in on.  One fifty-eight and fifty-three seconds.

“Aaaand blah blah blah.”  Merida snorts at Jack’s blabber-hand as he mimics the tv duo.  Toothless rolls his eyes in agreement as Rapunzel pulls a wry smile.

_Just show it,_ he begs.  _Just-_

“And here it is…five…four…three!  Two!  ONE!”

The screen completely blacks out and for a moment, Toothless’s heart stops as he thinks that the magic human device has stopped working.

But he can hear the music playing and out of the darkness, the image of the twenty-four Tributes, standing in a circle fades in.

**“It’s not just survival…”**

The screen flashes with violence and they all gasp and draw together as the camera flashes on Hiccup’s furtively retreating form for a thousandth of a second.  It’s gone before Toothless can really process it, leaving him cursing and reeling.  He thinks he saw a dragon pattern on his boy’s jacket.  He thinks.

Bring him back!

**“It’s a war…”**

Scenes from a pine forest, with groups of humans trekking through it.

**“A conflict between two groups that preyed on each other…”**

Toothless is sure the first group is those Careers Merida had talked about.  The other group looks more ragtag, less refined, but still deadly.  Both are in action, and Toothless feels faintly sick when he recognizes one of the many victims as Hiccup’s district partner.

**“Only to become the prey themselves.”**

Rapunzel shrieks.

“IS THAT-?”

It is.  It’s a bloodied and somewhat gaunt but still healthy-looking Hiccup, peering over the cliff at the falling Career he’s just thrown over his back.  It’s the same Career who killed his partner.

There’s a girl with black hair and pale olive eyes in the second group, perfectly calm.

Then she pulls a knife and there are bodies and blood all around her.  Betrayal.

**“There’s just one left standing.”**

The survivor stands in the middle of that forest, staring down at the weapons of his…comrades.  Toothless can see the rage in his eyes.  He can see insanity that makes his stomach turn, and not in the way when he’s about to deliver his catch.

**“But against the Spy-“**

There’s the black-haired girl, slipping unnoticed through the forest.

**“-and the Avenger-“**

Rapunzel’s clinging to him and Jack as the camera finally, finally settles on Hiccup, high up in the trees, watching with an eerie stillness as the Careers stand just below him.

**“-can he stay that way?”**

The screen blacks out once again and a, a laugh, if it can be called that, sounds through the room and makes Toothless’s heart shiver.  Something swishes across the black screen, they can tell, but…the only thing they can see is a pair of vibrant, unforgettable green eyes.

Then they blink.

**“The 52 nd Hunger Games, coming soon.”**

The TV becomes mere background noise as they watch Hiccup again and again, every hour when it rolls around on the dot.  They eat apple turnovers and pull the blankets over them to help fend off that fresh wave of terror as Toothless imagines his Hiccup facing off against that invisible girl and that…deranged boy.

They huddle under the blankets all night, and this night, none of them truly sleep.  Not with those haunting images and what-ifs floating in their mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy did it take me awhile to figure out this event's setting. Anyway, for those of you who haven't guessed, the Spy is Heather. Not much else to say about this chapter...yeah.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	16. Flying with Hiccup's Crowd

Astrid was enraged.

Now she’s calmed down some, but when these, these _morons_ pulled two pieces of nothing out of that sack, boy, had she just about blown her top.

Tuffnut cocks his head next to her as she stews silently, like lava bubbling out of a volcano.  “I’m confused.  What are they?”

This…Toothless character grins slyly at them.  “Wings.”

“You’re all idiots.”  Astrid can hear the resoundingly bitter tone in her own words and the glare she’s leveling at these people could make boulders crumble.  Amazingly, the brown-haired fellow who’s obviously not all here looks amazingly unconcerned and the girl with the red explosion of hair is matching her glare with a glower that reminds Astrid of a murderous Monstrous Nightmare.

And the black-haired moron in front of her is just giving her this curious look, almost like he’s… _assessing_ her.

Hiccup’s friends are as cracked as he was – is – and she sincerely regrets ever laying eyes on them.  When they were collecting money to send Hiccup something, they should have just stuck with the original plan and ignored these strangers, because a slice of bread, hell, a crumb of cheese, would have been more useful than these scraps of fabric.

Tuffnut, if possible, seems even angrier than her.  “So…So let me get this straight.  We collected all that money…and you spent it… _on_ _this?_ ”

He stabs the mottled leather as though his finger is a knife.

“My sister is _dead_.  She was killed-“ Astrid can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows “-she was murdered.  The only reason I can sleep at all at night is the fact that _Hiccup_ gave her the respect she deserved and avenged her.  And you decided to send him this _trash?”_

Astrid steps forward to stand at his shoulder, silently but firmly supportive.  She’s just so disgusted with these people-

“Hiccup can provide for himself.”  Toothless hardly looks intimidated and that judging glint in his eye is still there.  He’s almost looking _down_ at them which makes Astrid bristle.  “There has to be food and water in that place, or they wouldn’t send the Tributes there, would they?”

“The Gamemakers can change that in a nanosecond,” Astrid growls at him.  “Tributes _always_ need food and water.  Did you even think about getting him medicine?”

“Hiccup can take care of himself,” Toothless repeats and Astrid’s eyes narrow further at the almost accusing edge his words have.

“Look, you could show some faith in him, people,” Brown Idiot cuts in.  “Hiccup prepares for things.  If he doesn’t have water, it’s because his entire stock is gone and there’s no water to be found.  In which case the Gamemakers aren’t trying to kill him – they’re trying to end this game.”

“If someone kills him, the food isnae going tae do any good, except maybe for his murderer,” Red Idiot adds.  Her eyes narrow further.  “And we donnae want that.”

“These wings,” Toothless finishes with the calm air of an adult explaining something to a child who just isn’t quite getting it, “are to help him in that final battle.  Hiccup can’t fight like _you_.  He uses the environment to his advantage, but it’s as treacherous for him as it is for his foe.  If he falls, I want him to have something that will catch him.”

It’s crazy.  It’s nuts.  It’s the most twisted thing Astrid’s ever heard…but angry as she is, she can still tell it makes sense.

In a really weird, Hiccup-y type way.

Still, she is not ready to back down when food was obviously the better option.  “And you honestly think these things can catch him,” she states, flicking her bangs out of her eye with a twist of her head so that she can really look at this boy who claims to be Hiccup’s friend.

Before he can even open his mouth, Brown Idiot’s voice drifts down from a rooftop.  “Hell yeah!”

Astrid’s mouth – and everyone else’s, too, she’s sure – falls open as Brown Idiot, no, make that IQ-of-a-Tree tightens the straps around his arms and legs, wings stretched tautly as he tests his arms.

Then he jumps.

Astrid admits it’s impressive.  Even with the initial flailing, he actually manages to get a pretty decent sloping glide as he heads down.

Still, when his face smashes into the mud three feet away, they all wince.  He’s dead still for two seconds until-

“Ta-da!”

Red Idiot punches him.

Astrid’s eyes tighten.  “What if they rip?”

“He’ll fix it with resin.”

“And you’re sure he’ll think of that?”

“He’s done it before,” Toothless answers instantly and at this point Astrid has to wonder what on Earth Hiccup has been doing when they weren’t looking.

“You’d better include a diagram so he knows those aren’t just foot warmers.”

Toothless holds up a sloppily-done drawing, but it does get the point across.  Red Idiot and Tuffnut are helping Tree-IQ get the knots and buckles undone and the wings packed away behind him.

“And I hope you didn’t spend everything this District raised on those wings; there’s the transport cost, too, and it’s going to be expensive.”

“We have a friend in District 1 who will be happy to handle it.”

Then Toothless grins at her this terrible, discomforting, mafia type of grin that makes her hair stand on end and gives her the foreboding sense that she has just become part of this conspiratorial group of crazies.  It’s a group made from secrets and Astrid’s gut is making her sick with ‘you-don’t-want-to-know’ vibes.  Why?  Probably because the way these people think just goes against logic.  Because she can tell, they’re going to turn her perfectly-built world into an inside-out version of Alice’s Wonderland.

But there’s no turning back now.

“How soon can we get them to him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess I should say that they didn't notice Hiccup has an achingly bloody arm. And I should also probably mention that these are a sort of rough prototype version the adult Hiccup has - obviously, he put a lot of thought and effort into them so that he can glide with ease. Here? It's Toothless's idea, and nobody had any time to really tamper and perfect it.  
> Um...beyond that...I guess we can all tell that the Hunger Games are coming to a close and I am approaching a dilemma. Stuff happens afterward, of course, but this entire plot has been about Hiccup in the Hunger Games. Anything else, like Rapunzel and Gothel, the Red Death, Merida's parent issues and Jack's trouble-making, is like a really involved epilogue or a whole sequel, neither of which is high on my admittedly short To-Write list at the moment. So I guess I'm asking, does anybody want me to make it a high priority or think I should just shove it off the list all together?  
> Either way, I hope you guys are enjoying this climax :)  
> ~Sheisa


	17. Game of Hunger

The last Tribute is standing ten feet away.  He’s obviously bluffing with the way he bears nothing but a pleasant smile of the sweetest honey and he smirks back, intrigued.

After all, this is the weakling.  His strengths lie in stealth and trickery and he depends on luck.  They may have carried him this far, but now that it’s a straightforward fight to the death, little Hiccup doesn’t stand a chance.

“Well, well.”  Dagur lowers his axe as he approaches the last Tribute.  “If it isn’t the little rat that’s been hiding behind the bushes all this time.”

“I’ve been hiding in the trees, actually.”

You know, there’s something about Hiccup that Dagur has always found amusing ever since they met in the training arena.  “Oh,” he guffaws, now practically nose-to-nose with him.  “I guess I should have called you a little pigeon.  So tell me, pigeon, what’s a little bird like you doing out here where the big, bad tiger can get you with a little flick of his claw?”

And just for effect, he pulls out his axe again and draws a very thin line down Hiccup’s cheek.  He briefly contemplates just swinging and being done with it, but honestly, what’s the point?  He has complete control over this situation, and both he and Hiccup know it.  He can end this game whenever he chooses, no harm done – to him.

And he’s curious why little Hiccup would hand this control to him.

So what’s a few extra minutes?

“I came down here to offer you something.”

Even more interesting.  “You mean besides your life?”

Hiccup shrugs.  “In a manner of speaking.  I mean, it is just the two of us now, and I was thinking, you know, we’re not really living up to the spirit of the game, are we?”

Dagur mimics Hiccup’s steps perfectly.  “Go on.”

“So I was thinking,” Hiccup continues, one arm crossed and the other at his chin, “why don’t we change that?  Turn this into a true game of hunger?”

“Intriguing,” Dagur admits after a moment.  Quite the entertaining twist, Dagur has to hand it to the twig.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…”

Dagur blinks in astonishment as Hiccup holds up a very familiar-looking pack.  “See, here are your provisions.  And here are mine.  And…oh, whoops.  Clumsy old me.  It looks like we’ll just have to settle things here and now, huh?”

Dagur watches the packs float down the river.

Then he laughs.  He throws back his head and wraps an arm around Hiccup’s shoulders and laughs.  “I like where your head’s at, Hiccup.  But come now, where’s your weapon?”

Hiccup gives him a mock-confused look – for the camera, Dagur’s sure.  “I mentioned a hunger game, right?”

“Why, yes!”  Dagur snaps his fingers – just for the camera, too.  “Yes you did!  Lead on!”

Hiccup turns, but Dagur can see every single muscle tense in the way he walks, the way his arms jerk when he swings.  He bares his teeth to himself in a grin.  Hiccup is very afraid.

Little Hiccup’s voice, however, is completely level.  “Well…I went ahead and scrounged around.”

Dagur steps out onto a little clearing next to a cliff – The cliff, in fact.  The cliff where Hiccup won before, where Hiccup could almost be said to have a homefield advantage.  Hiccup looks quite comfortable on it as he gestures at the circle of makeshift packs and knotted blankets around them.  “Here’s what I found.”

Dagur squints at them.  “A…guessing game?”

“Pretty close.”  Hiccup takes a few steps and sits cross-legged, right next to the edge of the cliff.  “These sacks all have something in them – edible or not.  I know what’s under each one, but you do not.  Therefore you will get to choose the sacks.  I will eat what is in the first one.  Then we’ll have nine, and you will eat whatever is in the sack you choose next.  We alternate until one of us ends up with the sack that has the poisonous berries.

“So.”  The smile Hiccup offers him now is not sweet.  It is challenging, as though he already knows what is going to happen – expects Dagur to refuse and take that easy way out.  “Are you hungry enough for this game, Dagur?”

He’s never liked doing what’s expected of him.  It’s so…limiting.  Besides, Hiccup is still completely open and vulnerable.  This still ends when _he_ decides.  So he will drag it longer and play Hiccup’s little game for as long as it amuses him.

He sits inside the circle across from Hiccup and, gaze staying firmly on Hiccup’s unwavering one, points at the sack three to his right.  “That one.”

Hiccup reaches over and unwraps it.

It’s a meager pile of bark.

And true to his word, despite his grimacing, Hiccup eats ever single piece of it.  Dagur watches in fascination as he realizes that Hiccup is in fact not kidding and this game was not a bluff.

He gives a little more thought on the next bag he chooses, watching Hiccup’s eyes, trying to find some sign of which bags to avoid.  He doesn’t get any, but the one he picks actually has some rock-hard bread in it.  Good luck.  Dagur thinks he broke a tooth on it, but it’s still better than the bark.

The third bag has half a raw, dead fish in it.  How Hiccup managed to catch it Dagur doesn’t know.  How he manages to _eat_ it without hurling astounds him.

The fourth bag…has four worms.

The fifth is a small portion of sand.

The sixth has mushrooms – the non-poisonous kind.

Dagur leans forward, enraptured as Hiccup unwraps the seventh and then eats the leaves inside.

The eighth bag has acorn shells – no nuts, just the empty husks that hold them.  Bastard has an excellence sense of humor, Dagur thinks as they crunch between his teeth.

There is one bag left.  And the poisonous berries haven’t been found yet.

Hiccup doesn’t say a word when Dagur points at the remaining bag to his left.  The little auburn-head takes a deep breath and unwraps it…

“WHAT?!”

It is most certainly NOT poisonous berries.  They’re some of the prettiest flowers Dagur’s ever seen.

But what Dagur cannot get over is the fact that, “YOU LIED TO ME!” he accuses, stabbing a finger in the perfectly composed boy’s direction.  “YOU SAID THERE WERE POISONOUS BERRIES BENEATH ONE OF THESE SACKS!”

Hiccup looks unfazed.  In fact, Dagur’s temper spikes as Hiccup even does this little triumphant, crooked half-smile.  Yeah, that smile when they’re trying so hard to not smile, but can’t help but let a little smug victory escape.

“There are.  There are ten bags, remember?  Nine on the second round.  Ten on the first round.”

He calmly eats the flowers as Dagur’s mouth hangs wide open, then lifts a hand and twirls his finger.

“Turn around, Dagur.”

There.  Is. One.  More.  Bag.  “BEHIND ME!”

It’s the poisonous berries.

“YOU RIGGED IT!”  This little weakling…tricked him.  Him!

“The game, Dagur.”

Oh, no.  No.  This little twerp does NOT get to say that he out-smarted him and live to tell the tale.

Dagur leaps up and bounds the two steps to Hiccup, who has just barely managed to scramble to his knees.  With an axe held to his temple, he doesn’t get any further.

“Alright, Hiccup,” he hisses.  Out-smarted…but out-maneuvered?  _Never_.  “I played your game.  Now it’s time we played a game of mine.  How good do you think my aim is?  Will I slice through your eyes, your nose, or your lying little mouth?”

His eyes widen when something jabs his stomach – a dagger.  Not Hiccup’s little knife, an honest dagger that looks too big in his hands and way too close to his stomach.

Hiccup’s mouth is firm.  His eyes are hard.  And…Dagur finds it hilarious.

“Hiccup…the Killer?”  He chortles as he readjusts his grip on the ax.  “Oh, Hiccup, you will never cease to amuse.  Not even in your death.  Look at the way you’ve been fighting.  You’re not a killer.  Why, you couldn’t even kill an itty bitty Terror even though you sure were hungry enough to, now weren’t you?”

“No.  But I will do whatever it takes to protect my friends – and all the Districts from a Victor like you.”

Oh, it’s so cliché, Dagur almost vomits.  But this is the game they’re playing now.  “Protect them?  You can’t even protect yourself, not from me, not from-“  He pauses and they both freeze as they hear something flapping and shrieking, a horde of somethings flapping and shrieking, and because Dagur is the one who can move his head he leans down and whispers just for Hiccup – “not even from your little friends.”

And maybe he’s being the cliché one now, but Dagur has always adored poetic justice, so he slices Hiccup’s calf so that he can’t run and takes off to go find a place where he can appreciate the last Tribute’s demise.

He says 'last Tribute' because he is no longer a Tribute - he is the 52nd Hunger Game's Victor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, cliffhanger...sorry. I mean, I'm a happy little sap, so I think everyone knows who's going to win, but...  
> Anyway, hopefully these next chapters don't seem too contrived.  
> Hasta la vista,  
> Sheisa


	18. All Worlds Come to an End

For all its Peacekeepers, District 1 doesn’t actually have a Guard.

Nor does it have emergency drills.

Weapons?  Only if you can turn earring studs into deadly, flesh-ripping darts, assuming you don’t drop them as you try to aim with the pointy side.

All of this is because District 1 doesn’t have any dragon raids.

It used to, many decades ago.  That was when it had a powerful armada that could up-and-at-‘em in mere minutes.  They did their job well – so well that the dragons gave up trying to get at the scant amount of livestock (that was really kept around for petting-zoo purposes and didn’t make good culinary dishes) as well as the great many shiny things the district produced (and that no one really knew what they wanted for; they were reasonably certain that even dragons couldn’t live on a diet of priceless amethyst crowns).

But long history book short – and Rapunzel knows, it had taken her four whole days to read it – the dragons focus their attention on the districts further out, where livestock is as plentiful as bugs and there’s plenty of nature to attack from and the people are a bit more, well…neglected and don’t have fantastic weapons or alert guards.

So District 1 still has Peacekeepers, but they’re more of a police force than a protective guard.  It has emergency drills for things like kitchen fires.  It has an armory, but when the quartet found it, the windows were just about rusted shut and the whole place had a layer of dust almost ankle deep in some places.

Most alarming of all, District 1 has a booming population of talented craftsmen, elite politicians, petty thieves, prim lawyers, and peaceful cops who have no idea how to handle a dragon attack.

Rapunzel can see it’s chaos incarnate, pure and simple.  As she clings to her bedpost with a Herculean grip, she can tip her head down ever so slightly and see fires so, so far below her.  She can hear the screams.  Dragons are swarming the sky like a living, breathing thundercloud made of scales and claws.

The half-of-a-tower rocks as they whip by, some using it to propel themselves down even faster and Rapunzel shrieks each time her tower quakes, somehow always shocked by the sheer _power_ she can feel through the vibrating metal and wood.  Pascal huddles in the crook of her neck, tiny body shaking.

As the building groans and sways without any help from the dragons, it dimly occurs to Rapunzel that they aren’t safe.  They’re high up where no one can get them, get to them, she corrects herself, light green eyes tracking the hovering horde that has moved away some.

But she still _feels_ safe.  She’s more alarmed at how secure she feels clinging to her bed in a swaying, half-destroyed room than the real danger of-

“!”

_Oh goddess oh goddess oh goddess oh goddess oh go-_

Pascal roars at it, hissing as he digs into Rapunzel’s shoulder with claws she didn’t know he had.

The black dragon growls back, toxic eyes narrowing.

The tower groans.

Rapunzel hyperventilates.  She doesn’t know what will kill her first – the falling tower or the dragon in front of her.

But one of them will kill her.

Maybe both at the same time, but Rapunzel doesn’t have time to think about that as the tower floor is suddenly four meters below her feet and the dragon lunges forward and the bed rips out of her hands and a _vice_ grabs her shoulder.

She feels like screaming as her body FINALLY realizes what her brain has vainly been trying to tell it.

_She is in danger._

And the frenzied flailing and the instinct to run out of there can’t exactly help her anymore, _now can it?_ says an acidic voice Rapunzel never knew she had.

Maybe she never actually had it before, because she’s never seen a world like this before.  There’s no wonder or beauty.  There’s nothing to run to and explore.  There’s just fire and dark places to avoid and all around her, all Rapunzel can see is this Jurassic fight for survival.  It’s nature, at its basest and ugliest bones.

The dragon carries her straight down into it and with a sharp swoop, Rapunzel is surprised into relinquishing her death grip on its arm.

It disappears.

And Rapunzel huddles in the isolated little corner, shivering with Pascal in her lap as she waits for this world that Mother’s always warned her about to come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. CURSE YOU, MONDAYS AND TUESDAYS! And Wednesday mornings.  
> So yeah, after another long and unprecedented break, I'm writing again. And I didn't even fix that cliffhanger for you guys. I just scarred Rapunzel, who has just found out that real life is a bitch.  
> I'll try to get the next chapter up asap :)
> 
> ~Sheisa


	19. The End

There are things she knows that she shouldn’t.  Or there are things she’s supposed to know that she doesn’t.  There are things she misses, that she never had before?

There are things she’s forgotten…and she wants to know what they are.

But of course you never know what you don’t know.

She’s not the only one feeling it as they all stare at the boy sitting on the ground in front of them, legs crumpled, head turned away and hand held out, calmly, peacefully.  It’s a thrum in their veins, a collective hum across the Flock that makes them all shift in agitation.  It’s like that itch in your joint that no amount of rubbing and scratching can do anything to satiate.

But for some reason it’s strongest in her, so she is the one to flap up and land on his outstretched arm, claws digging into the cloth when he jolts like an old, rusted chainsaw that has finally decided to start.

Almost instinctively, she twists her head around to see what – something

Not the Flock, but the Flock’s all that’s there.  So she _must_ be twisting her head around to see what the Flock thinks of this boy and his wide, leafy eyes.

She does her best to ignore the absent presence that reappears when she turns her head forward and faces the boy again, curious thoughts and wishes whirring like bees’ wings.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses at him as she sees his other arm start to come up in her peripherals.

He freezes, allowing her to resume her inspection.

Leafy eyes.

She knows this boy and his leafy eyes.  She knows his leafy ways.  He’s prey, easily crumpled, but he’s protected, held high out of reach by the giant.  He’s spectacular, even in his brightly-colored death as he falls – fails – but he always comes back, too resilient to be kept down.  He’s always there, never in the center or off to the side, but where no one truly notices him, right at the edge-

They both shriek, a chorus taken up by the rest of the Flock as something _thunks_ and something else _cracks_ and the boy manages to balance for just a precarious moment – “Whoa!  Ah-!” – until he falls off that edge.

And even though she knows she’s never done it before despite the fact that she can’t _remember_ never doing it before, she falls off the edge after him because it’s just how the Flock works – when one falls, the rest fall.

And when one of them opens up his wings and glides, the rest of them pull out of the dive and glide.

And when he glides straight for the gaping _killer_ who threw that axe, the rest divebomb him with a vengeance unmatched by anything on Earth.

Needless to say, he doesn’t make it out alive.

**A brief interlude in which the Victor is brought to the hospital.  And the Gamemakers lose a Terror.**

She can’t believe they actually think she’s going to be shooed away.  Seriously.  And she’s supposed to be the stupid one.

The other Terrors, sure.  Clueless wimps.

But her?  Pfft.  She was out of that metal box of misery faster than those humans could blink, and long gone before they could even try to lock it.

Her pale crème scales blend with the shining walls almost flawlessly as she sneaks through the door and under the bed they’ve put the boy on.  He’s unconscious after his fabulous faceplant in the sand on that island and his leg’s in bad shape, but they said they could fix him.

Which they had better.

Because there are things she’s supposed to know, and in that minute when she stared at Leaf Boy, she saw that he knows them.

So if they think they can drive her off, they’re nuts.  She curls up resolutely under the bed, blue eyes watching the humans’ feet shuffle back and forth across the room as she waits for him to wake up.

There are things she’s supposed to know, and he’s going to teach her them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. So apparently, "asap" means "three days" for me. What can I say? I got distracted by the Croods. Awesome movie. Awesome soundtrack. Also, my muse for this story is at the end of its life. It's...kind of wheezing on its death bed at the moment, giving me the evil eye for pestering it.  
> Aaaand there's also a Rocky and Bullwinkle: the Movie reference in there, too. For those of you who recognize what that is.  
> Anyway, this isn't actually the last-chapter end. It's just the end of the Hunger Games (da da daaaaa~). I've just...yeah, I think I already explained the whole Croods thing.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	20. Reaper

Merida really wishes she had received either of her parents’ height, but no.  She’s only five feet and a half inch, frizzy loose hair included.  It makes peeking through the small, lightly frosted window in the servers’ door an irritating trial as she stands on tiptoe and lightly presses her fingertips to the metal, hyperaware of the three Peacekeepers, the dragon, and Hiccup on the other side.

It’s hard to see, but she can at least hear them perfectly.

“Where’s the dragon?”

Hiccup looks unsurprised, but he twists around, looking for it.  “Um…I don’t see h-wait…”  He squints at a couch.  “Nope.  Sorry.  I don’t know.  Somewhere around here.”

One of the Peacekeepers snorts.  The leader looks unmoved.  “Boy, if you-“

“Well,” a new voice breaks in.

Merida’s blood freezes.

“Hiccup Haddock of District 7, the 52nd Victor!”

“Hello, President Trechorrus,” Hiccup nods appropriately.

Merida grits her teeth as Alvin Trechorrus, President of Panem, enters the room jovially of all things, giving _her friend_ a round of applause.

“Hiccup, lad, you were _spectacular._   Absolutely spectacular.  This, now, this was a Hunger Game that will be spoken about for decades to come!  Well done, Hiccup.  Well done.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

There’s her shy Hiccup.  Merida breathes a sigh of relief before ducking, realizing if she can hear them, they can probably hear her.  It was just so comforting.  She grabs a dustcloth, smoothly running it over the cabinets containing the porcelain just next to the door.  This cold, almost confrontational façade Hiccup’s been using the entire time she’s been here…it’s just a façade, she’s sure now.

The real Hiccup is still there.

“That clever plan you hatched to avenge your friend…tell me, had you planned that?”

“I- No, sir.  I…was going to come up with a plan, but I just leapt out too soon and, well, had to…do…something.”

Shy, clever Hiccup.

Alvin’s laugh makes Merida’s fists clench, the cloth crumpling in her hands as she focuses more on listening in than ridding the wood of nonexistent dust.

“So you just made it up on the fly.  Amazing.”

“Y…yes, sir.”

“Oh, at ease, lad.  No need for stiff formality here, my boy, this is a congratulatory visit!  A time for you to boast with the stunning story of how you entered the Arena and came out to tell the tale to your curious admirers!  In fact, boys, leave young Hiccup here with me.  Soldiers can be such downers during story time.  Always want to interrupt and turn it into a competition.”

Merida’s frown becomes a scowl that would send a Nightmare running as she makes out the form of Alvin wrapping an arm around Hiccup, his last few sentences a stage whisper.

“Of course, sir, but what about the dragon?”

“Oh, I’m sure Hiccup here can protect me from that!  No worries, men, I’m in good hands here!”

“Yes, sir.”

If Merida can see that Alvin wants something from Hiccup, then Hiccup definitely can too.  She hopes he knows what it is.

She can hear the other maids shuffle around in the next room as Hiccup tells his story.  It’s not dramatic and interjected with sarcastic observations and the dry humor falls a bit…flat.  And he’s vague.

Very vague.

Quick as she can, she heads into the tiny kitchen, setting a pot on boil and pulling out some tea packets before heading back to the adjoining room and pulling out a porcelain set up as silently as possible.

When she comes back, they’re not talking about Hiccup’s story anymore.  Not really.

“Hiccup, details, details!  You stopped a whole pack of Terrors in their tracks – so to speak – and you have nothing to say about it?  It’s the most amazing part of your entire story!”

“Sir, you don’t understand.  It was pure dumb _luck_.  I couldn’t do anything but, but _lay there_ and pray they’d be curious enough about me to not rip me apart!”

Like the other Tribute.

The jovial note has disappeared from Alvin’s tone.  “But the first Terror did everything you told it.  And then a pack of wild Terrors stopped at your command.”

“I didn’t say anyth-“

“Lad, you don’t seem to understand just how magnificent this is.  Or you do understand how magnificent it is, and you just don’t want us to be able to have dragons at our command.”

Merida stands ready, tray in front of her and expression pleasant.

“You’re cunning enough for the second one.  But what you don’t understand is that this could be the key to ending the war.  District 7 suffers quite a number of dragon raids, does it not?  Loss of food, loss of lives and all that timber must burn wonderfully  Just think about your father.  That brother you mentioned, hmm?  You could end their suffering.  You could make their lives that much better, and be a great hero for it.”

She has to strain to hear Hiccup’s voice.  “Or I could give the Capitol another weapon they can turn on anyone they wish – the dragons or the districts.”

“Why, Hiccup, the Capitol is here to protect the districts.  We only want to rid the districts of these pests and make it safer for everyone.”

Hiccup calls BS for her.  “Only the far-out districts get raided.”  His voice reflects her bitterness perfectly, all fifteen years of it.  “You’re safe and you’ve never cared enough to send competent battalions out to us.  Why would you do anything different with dragons?”

A pause.

“District 1 was raided two nights ago.  It was devastating, to say the least.  Lost a lot of property.  Lost a lot of Peacekeepers.  What’s to say they won’t strike directly at us anymore?”

“My answer’s still no.  I don’t trust you.”

“Trust?  It’s not about trust and promises, Hiccup.  It’s about decisions and _consequences_.”

And threats.  Merida’s lip curls and she raps her knuckles on the door sharply.  Alvin’s voice is suddenly loud and jovial once again, boisterous and friendly, but she saw him jump.  Yeah.  He’d better be twitchy.

Hiccup has _back-up_.

“Well, it looks like our time is up.  I have a meeting to get to – terribly dull planning, honestly – and you have a family to go look after.  Amazing story, lad, I can’t wait to share it!  And once again: congratulations, Victor!”

The quick handshake he exchanges with Hiccup and the friendly look he sends Merida as she sets down the tray makes her stomach clench and she hopes her smile isn’t too strained.

Then he’s gone and so are the Peacekeepers and it’s just her and Hiccup, the 52nd Victor of the Hunger Games, in the luxurious train.

She completely ignores his suddenly wary, almost trapped look, the way he backs up just a smidge, shifts his weight away, as she leaps forward and tries to break his back with a hug that would put a bear to shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another week, another chapter. Again, not fond of this one's ending, but there you have it. We waited long enough for it.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	21. Hiccup Goes for a Spin

Toothless’s eyes are narrowed as he waits high above the District 7 village, trying to spot a certain redhead.  _And the Master of Stealth swoops silently across the night sky, waiting for the perfect moment to dive down upon his oblivious prey_ – now!

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”  Hiccup’s cry fades from the village as he heads straight up again, leaving everything behind.  Toothless does not feel guilty in the least.

“This is for leaving me!” Toothless snaps as he carves sharp turns on his wingtips, Hiccup’s body flapping like a flag during hurricane season, held only by Toothless’s iron grip.

“Who-OA!  Ah-Oh gods…oh gods…”

Toothless ignores Hiccup’s spluttering and flailing, diving down once again with all the fury that gave him his name.  “And this…is for not telling me anything!” he roars as he pulls up, nearly clipping the tips of the pine trees as they shoot just over the canopy.

“Fwu-AIII!”

Wings pumping furiously, Toothless climbs up the sky like a maniac.  Then he spins, letting gravity grasp them.  “This is for nearly dying!” he yells above Hiccup’s grunts.

“And this is for _scaring me to death!”_

Hiccup doesn’t scream this time.  He just falls, wide eyes flicking around in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his black hide in the midnight sky.

Toothless, however, is far below him, waiting as Hiccup falls closer and closer.

He sideswipes the boy mere meters from the ground, muscles screaming as he cancels out Hiccup’s terrific velocity and tosses him up so the boy can land safely on his back.  Immediately two arms cling to his neck and Toothless is careful to glide up smoothly because Hiccup isn’t in a saddle and has absolutely nothing to hold on to.

Now he’s maybe a little bit guilty as he hears Hiccup’s quick gasps and feels his racing heart pressed against his back.

“This,” he croons, “is for coming back.”

He makes sure to treat Hiccup to the best night views he’s ever seen, away from the dragons and the districts and everyone else.  The sky seems to hear his thoughts because there are more stars out tonight than he’s ever seen before and not a cloud in the sky that can block their view.  The wind is gentle, even a little warm.  It’s nice.  It’s peaceful.

They’ve both been short on peace lately so they silently seize the opportunity to enjoy this moment.

But when Hiccup starts to shiver and hugs Toothless tighter, he knows their short escape is over.  He begins to circle his way around the warm thermals, slowly losing altitude.

Hiccup speaks up for the first time.

“Hey, bud.”

“Hey yourself,” Toothless purrs back, absurdly pleased.

“Thanks for the ride.  I…needed that.”

“Any time, Hic.”

“No, really.  I needed that.  I guess you don’t know…I didn’t tell you, but…well.  Each year, twenty four people get selected at random to fight each other to the death.  It was me this year.”

“…I know.  And?” Toothless prompts after a few moments.

“It was me.  Gods, I…Toothless, please don’t hate me.”

Hiccup sounds close to tears and Toothless hums sympathetically, waiting.

“I…please understand, I couldn’t be merciful.  Or forgiving.  I couldn’t look at people and see people, you know?  I had to look at people and see…animals.”

He’s definitely crying now.

“And it’s so hard to go back to seeing people.  I feel so disgusted with myself because I look at people now and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to care.  I’m so wrapped up in me, me, me, and I can’t reach out and feel anything but-but apathy…Toothless, if we met like we did that first time?  In the woods, where you were a-all tied up?  If w-we had met, r-right now?  I would kill you.  I would have killed you.”

It’s now that Toothless realizes that the Capitol has injured Hiccup – and possibly countless other people – in ways even medicine and magic can’t heal.

He lands softly in their cove but Hiccup doesn’t slide off him.  He clings and Toothless, as gently as he can, swings him around so that they’re face to face, the boy kneeling on the ground with his arms around the dragon’s neck.  Hiccup won’t meet his eyes and Toothless’s worry grows as he hears the broken tones in his sobs and sees the shivers racking his friend’s frame.  He slowly coaxes him to the little overhang in the cove’s side, murmuring assurances as Hiccup buries his head into Toothless’s neck and Toothless settles down, forcing him to let go.

Hiccup stands there for a moment, hands rubbing the tears away from his pale cheeks before he looks up at Toothless.

Toothless is ready.  He pulls the corners of his lips back and up, revealing a very toothless smile.  Then he raises a wing, letting the smile drop.  “Get in here.”

It’s like a dam has broken.  With a watery smile of his own, Hiccup scrambles into his embrace and curls up against Toothless’s side

And maybe neither medicine nor magic can heal him, but Toothless is confident that he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I'm truly sorry about the long wait for this chapter. And I can honestly say it won't happen again because there's one chapter left and I'm on spring break :)  
> Anyway, this chapter sprang from the fact that it's not really an HTTYD story without some bonding between our favorite boys. It took me a while to come up with the idea of it happening OUTSIDE the cove, however sad that sounds.  
> Oh, and if this was vague, Toothless is currently a dragon and Hiccup canNOT understand his Dragonese. I know people usually italicize or bold different languages, but I felt like that would demote Toothless and detract from the feeling that Hiccup and Toothless can actually communicate.
> 
> ~Sheisa


	22. Resolution

The chairs in his new house are uncomfortably comfortable, he decides as he falls into one, arms sprawled out and head lolling back.

“Uggggh…”

It’s a mess.  He has so many things to hide and the Capitol is going to pick at his secrets like the nasty little bonobos they are.  He can already hear the demands echoing in his mind: ‘How do you train dragons?  How did you meet those kids from those other districts?   _What do you know about dragons?_   Who’s this brother and why hasn’t anyone ever met him before?  _Where do you sneak off to all the time?_   _Where’s the dragon, boy?_ ’

Gods, why couldn’t people have paid a little more attention to him before, huh?  Then he wouldn’t have these secrets.  He wouldn’t have been able to get away with them then and he wouldn’t have to be worrying about getting away with them now.

Of course, he never would have met Merida, Rapunzel, Jack, and Toothless.  But at least they would be safe.

 _Knock knock_.

His knuckles turn white for a moment as his hands clench around the armrests and he glares at the grotesque picture of some poshly-dressed Roman general across from him.

“I’m coming!”

Is that the Capitol?  He really hopes it isn’t the Capitol.  A couple of Peacekeepers were just here yesterday, some nonsense about dragons and security issues.  Luckily Ruffnut hadn’t been in the area.

Another knock.

Hiccup huffs.  The person’s impatient enough to be Astrid, although she’s supposed to be at work right now.  She’s just taken to watching him, staring at him almost as he walks by.  A month ago he would have been over the moon, ecstatic.  Now he doesn’t know what to think about it.

Thor, if it’s the _art teacher_ Hiccup’s kicking him out.

‘Oh, but Mr. Haddock, it’s good for you to have a hobby!’

He has a hobby, thank you very much.  Getting the Capitol _out of his life_.  He yanks the door open.

“Hello?”

“Son!”

“DAD!”  His father’s hands are full with some of their old furniture.  “Uh…what are you doing?”

With a sigh, his dad lets the old chairs thump onto the ground.  “I, ah, just…I need to speak with you, son.”  The way he clasps his hands in front of himself and looks at the ground for help tells Hiccup this is going to be one of _those_ conversations – the kind in which both of them end up more disappointed than they began.

“Yeah?”

“Look…well…alright.  I’m going back to work.  In the lumberyard.”

Hiccup’s eyebrows hike up his forehead.  “Oh?  Oh, yeah, um, great.  Sure.”  He actually isn’t as disappointed as he thinks he sounds.  In fact, he’s glad his dad’s going back to work.  The whole stint where he hung around and wandered the house and idly whittled away at scraps – a pastime he had always deemed useless and unproductive – had been eerie.  Unnatural.  Un-Stoick-like.

Maybe he should tell his dad that.  “I’m-I’m glad.”

The giant man perks up.  “Oh?  I would have thought you would be…disappointed.”

“Pfft, disappointed?”  A little, but Hiccup shakes his head.  “Nah, it’s…it’s what you do, Dad.”

He freezes as the last words fall too flat, sounding bitter.  Odin help him.  Odin curse his stupid way of making everything sound sarcastic and insincere!

“Wait!  I didn’t mean it like that!”

His dad must have heard that silent little ‘leave me’ at the end of that sentence because he sends him a half-smile, half-grimace that makes Hiccup’s heart twist.  “No, you’re right, Hiccup.  I haven’t always, you know, been here, for you, and been the best father to you, and here I am leaving you, again…I’m…I’m sorry, son.  For everything.”

“Aggh…no, no, I didn’t mean it like that!  Gods…”  Hiccup runs his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath.  This coldly luxurious house doesn’t feel like the right place, and a chance meeting just doesn’t seem like the right time, but he’s not going to walk away without fixing all…this.  It’s not that hard, right?  Not compared to setting up his not-so-imaginary “brother” and reuniting Ruff and Tuff…it’s just talking to his father.  Still, he’s scrambling for words and he has no clue what to say.  “Just – just wait a minute, okay?  That came out wrong, and I don’t know what to say, because it seems I always say things the wrong way even though I try so hard to say them the right way so people can understand but they never do because-“

“Hiccup.”

Hiccup quits his rambling as his dad puts a hand on each of his shoulders, gazing down at him like he’s – listening?  He takes a deep breath.

“It’s what you do, Dad, it’s who you are.  You’re a leader, and…”  He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he has to say it.  He has to.  “Sometimes I wished you were more of a father, but I guess I never quit running around being a stubborn, troublemaking hooligan to be a better son, either.  You weren’t the only one who never listened.  I’m sorry, too, Dad.”

It’s an apology between men, but among Haddocks, apologies are also promises.  Hiccup knows his dad can’t promise to always be there for him, just as he can’t promise to always be obedient and do things his dad’s way.  But there’s a promise somewhere in those apologies that says they won’t have to apologize again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. The end, for real. Did not stay true to the harshness of the real hunger games series at all, did it? Oh well.
> 
> That said, I will probably do a sequel since this left a lot of loose ends to play with. Eventually. Since no one said they wanted to see it up, like, yesterday, I'm going to take that as freedom to have fun with another fic or two first. Based on the mushiness of the last couple of chapters, I need to.
> 
> A special thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments,  
> Sheisa

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first story, but it is the first story I'm writing like this, with a little snippet of perspective that gets written and posted each day. So saying, I of course started this two days before going on a week-long vacation...genius, I know -_- But I really wanted to get it out there and see what people thought of the idea, so...  
> Happy 52nd Hunger Games, everyone!
> 
> ~Sheisa


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